Keep Your Heart Strong
by HazySunray
Summary: An X-Men family fic! Erik and Charles run the place, but perhaps they have bitten off more than they could chew? Includes Raven, Hank, Alex, Sean, Wolverine, Scott, Charles and Erik . Warning: Corporal Punishment . Also some foul language and slash!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

* * *

Hank McCoy is a restless spirit when he is claimed by curiosity. He starts by asking himself a question and the next thing he knows, his lab table is messy and cluttered and revealing no answers to him whatsoever. He knows this before he starts. He knows that even when he can no longer see the surface of his desk for it is covered with books and papers and vials and test-result slips and self-prepared concoctions, he will not have his answer. Because the question he asks himself is a recurring one. And he hasn't found the answer to it before, so he knows he won't find it now.

Yet he still keeps asking himself this one. And he still keeps trying to change.

"The labrat wants you, McCoy," he suddenly hears. The voice is coming from approximately five meters away, 47 degrees to his left. The doorway. Erik Lensherr. Another question Hank has never been able to find the answer to. The man is an enigma when it comes to anything that scratches deeper than the surface and Hank finds himself intrigued by his very presence every time he's near.

On one side, he admires him for this. But on the other, he finds himself detesting a man who keeps pushing the idea of self-appreciation._ Easy for you to say_, he thinks then, _ a white man with symmetric features and a power that doesn't change any outward appearances. And then you call me lucky for having big feet._

On the one hand, they're just feet. Sure, people he's close to might see them, and swimming isn't really an option for him unless he wants to be stared at the whole time, but they're pretty easy to cover up. He's not like Raven, whose mutation is visible over her entire body. But then again, her power allows her to cover it up and what's more, she can turn into _whomever_ she wants; not just one person that isn't blue. Hank isn't as lucky as she is. Now that he thinks about it, Hank isn't as lucky as anyone on the team. Even Angel manages to pull off having wings by making them look like a tattoo. She can _fly_ for Heaven's sake! What can he do? Hang from the ceiling. Big whoop.

"Hank?"

He looks up quickly, trying to mask his thoughts by replying curtly, "Sorry. I'll be right up."

* * *

Alex sees the look of utter _bliss_ that takes over Bigfoot's face when he realizes that his big-ass feet are capable of more than just being big.

"Would you like to give it a go?" the professor asks, and Hank nods enthousiastically.

Evidently, there is more to his stupid, lame-ass feet than meets the eye, as he can apparently run rather quickly. _ Good for you,_ he thinks, trying to sound snarky, even to himself. He knows he doesn't. He knows he's jealous of Hank. Great, wise Hank, who will never hurt a single soul with his power. Unlike him, who could easily kill fifty people with just one slip of his self-control.

Bigfoot is still smiling when he's done with the run and Alex can hear himself saying something snarky to him, but doesn't really register the words that fall from his lips. He can tell from the look on Hank's face that he's somewhat hurt, though, and soaks it up like a sponge. _So what if you run faster than I can? I'd still blast you from a mile away._ He knows he's underplaying the term 'faster', since Hank can obviously run faster than a race-car could drive, but it feels nice to know that he's still stronger than the person he envies the most.

* * *

Charles can sense the power-play struggle that's going on between them, but doesn't voice his concerns for now. He realizes that they're young men who have different qualities and need to lay out their boundaries for each-other by themselves. Even though he can tell that Hank has taken on his usual passive role and really just wants to keep away from Alex altogether, he can also sense an underlying need -almost a hunger- to preserve his honor. Hank is not a pushover. He's just learned the word 'self-preservation' sooner than others his age, which makes him look like a loser in Alex' eyes.

But he can also see a more fragile side to Alex whenever the blonde makes some idle remark about whatever Hank is doing wrong in the boy's eyes. He seems less alive whenever he's breaking someone down, almost as if he's just seen a downside to the life he calls his own and therefore wants to bring everyone around him down to the same level. Perhaps this is why he's usually less hostile toward Sean. As much as Alex thinks he's a fighter, he's actually pretty unsure about his own capabilities. But he sees in Sean a sort of laid-back confidence in the way he allows himself to be taken to new heights and unkown terrains and wishes he knew such confidence, himself.

If only he could tell Alex that '_no, you are most certainly not as weak as you're making yourself out to be'_ before he irreparably hurts himself. He knows what it feels like to be undermined, especially by yourself. He also knows that Alex needs no more in life than to feel needed and wanted. Hank wants more. Hank wants to shoot for the stars and become noticed for _who_ he is instead of _what_ he is. Others would tell him that he's wrong; that Alex is the one who is reaching too far and that Hank is the calm and reserved one who needs very little to thrive. But Charles knows.

* * *

The only one who confuses Charles is Sean, really. One moment the boy is your average, happy-go-lucky teenager, and the next, he's quiet and distant and standoffish. But he does it with a certain grace, a sort of quiet passing that goes unnoticed by those who aren't paying attention. He's not your everyday emotionally loaded teen that's experiencing mood-swings. But sometimes, Charles can't help but think he's bipolar. Manic depression is not a disorder to be trifled with and he regularly wishes he had the proof to back it up so they could treat him for it without having him blow up in their faces. Or shut himself away from them for an immeasurable amount of time.

He's very unhelpful with Charles' research on this case, though. Sean wouldn't harm a fly, but he doesn't show any kind of passive behavior you would find in a frail-minded person. He won't intentionally hurt anyone's feelings, but he won't unnecessarily add some sort of happy remark to a conversation. He won't bring anyone down, but compliments are not for his lips. He's neutral. Too neutral.

Sean confuses Charles. For even with his mind-reading skills, the professor never catches any violent emotional outbursts from the boy inside his own head. He never hears the angry remarks better left unsaid from Sean the way he hears them from everyone else. At first, he'd thought that this was because of his mutation - that the keening pitch of the boy's voicebox somehow managed to re-embody itself in his mind. But as it turns out, Sean just isn't that sort of person. And try as he might, Charles can't figure out what kind of person he is.

* * *

Hank pours two glasses of lemon juice. He must admit - having found a fellow lover of the acidic zest truly astounds him. He wouldn't have pegged Sean as much of a juice drinker, let alone lemon juice, but then again he doesn't know much about him at all. Though, to be fair, none of them really know much about the copper-headed mutant.

He hands the boy the glass and delights in watching him take a long, slow sip without wincing. This is where real power lies - on the taste buds. Not in your biceps. Alex is such a baby.

Erik enters the room and shoots the both of them a mildly disgusted look. Hank struggles to contain a snort, but when he glances over at Sean the boy is getting up off his chair and depositing his glass in the dishwasher before leaving the room without another word.

* * *

Hank is looking at him oddly again, Erik thinks. He's noticed the way he's been doing that more and more lately, as if at first he'd just been some sort of uninteresting, half-unfinished puzzle left to collect dust on the coffee table, but all of a sudden some sort of pattern has become clear and he's worth the effort again. The scientist intrigues him as well, but no more than the labrat does. Both are smart, and Erik likes intelligence. He likes knowing that mutants aren't always brawn and no brains. It's too easy for most of them to get by on self-pity and raw power, the way he had in the past.  
For this reason, he worries for Alex, who reminds him painstakingly of himself. Alex is the perfect example of teenage years gone wrong. There was no partying, or college dorms, or family get-togethers. No home, no Sunday roast, no mother or father or the family dog. There was fighting, though. A lot of fighting for a scrap of repentance to make up for everything he did wrong when he could not save his family.

Alex is full of pent-up energy. Pent-up emotion. Anger. Hostility. Hatred. Most of which is directed toward himself.  
Hank is calm. Organised. Confused, yes, but not angry over it. Impatient and slightly annoyed he may be indeed, but he certainly won't stock up his emotions to have some sort of emotional breakdown in the near-future.  
Alex doesn't think of these things. He doesn't think about letting go of his emotions. So long as he can keep himself from bursting in the present, the future matters not.

Erik worries about Alex.

* * *

Raven finds it hard to live in a house filled with men. As easy as it is for her to turn into a male, she knows that she will always be that blue, scaly woman on the inside. Sure, she's got her girl friends to talk to when it comes to girly things, but they have different things on their minds than finding out how to look human. They just want to force acceptance onto people. They want others to marvel at their beauty, while Raven just wants to hide her blue skin away from prying eyes. Only Hank could ever understand what it feels like to look like a freak, but she can tell that Hank is jealous of her ability to shape-shift, notwithstanding the fact that his only worry are his feet.

No. When Raven thinks about it, the only person who understands her is Erik. Erik knows what it feels like to hate hating what you are, to despise being despised. And Erik is the only one (besides Charles, but that doesn't count) who tells her she's beautiful.

Erik is special. He isn't like the rest of them. But that also means he isn't like her.

* * *

Sean doesn't understand much about Mutants, but he sure does understand rules. Therefore, he can not comprehend Alex' pleasure when he sneaks into Sean's room with a bottle of liquor from the cabinet downstairs. Alex appears to be as joyful as a young child who has managed to eat the last cookie from the jar with no-one noticing.

And although Sean knows very well what the consequences could be for breaking the rules, he joins in on Alex' fun. And he feels better than he has in a long, long time. The alcohol is strong and tingles his nose as it burns down his throat, but he refrains from coughing. After several more swigs, he feels a gentle pricking behind his eyelids and realises that his eyes are closed and thin, nearly unnoticeable tears are leaking from the corners. He wipes his eyes quickly with the back of his knuckle and watches Alex stretch forward drowsily, holding out the nearly-empty bottle. He accepts it clumsily and downs the last sips, feeling more sated and warm than ever.

Sean doesn't understand much about Mutants, but he does understand rules.  
And the rule of life is to eat or be eaten.

* * *

Erik doesn't know why it unnerves him so much. If it had been any other word, or perhaps just any other person, it probably wouldn't have meant anything at all. But because it was Sean, and because his face was so blank, and the syllable had been so... dejected... everything just seemed to crash down simultaneously.

Why had he said those things to the boy, anyway? To get a rise out of him?  
_'Who do you think you are, to steal something like that?! It's not only that you broke the law with your under-age drinking, you also took something that wasn't yours! Alex, I expect this behavior from. But you? But perhaps that's your deal, then. Whatever it is, I am ashamed. And I am insulted to watch a fellow mutant steal from another mutant. It repulses me. Your behavior from last night simply disgusts me.'_

But that wasn't the worst part. That was when he still felt angry.

_ 'Oh.'_

That had been the worst part. When the pang of guilt suddenly struck his heart and bled throughout his chest, screaming at him to place a hand on the unruly ginger hair and assure him that he would be forgiven after the due apology. Without a second thought.

But he hadn't. Instead, he'd watched the boy keep his gaze trained on the ground, stiffening up his shoulders as though expecting some sort of physical chastisement. As though he were expecting Erik to hit him. And Erik hadn't corrected the behavior - hadn't assured him that such a thing would never happen. Was it the power-play? Did he enjoy being feared by others? Did he enjoy the upper-hand? The feeling of strength? Or was it that he'd hated himself for being just like that when he was younger and wanted to see the boy suffer?

It must have been utter agony trying to figure out what Erik's next move would be. Well, in all honesty, it had been to deliver the exact same speech to Alex, but after carefully watching Sean's response, he wasn't so sure he could repeat the words.

Sean's was indeed a hard shell to crack. But the more he succeeded in doing so, the less he found he wanted to see what sort of nut was incased within. Because he had the nagging feeling that it would be dusty, rotten and black.

* * *

He knows Erik thinks he and Sean had been alone when it happened, but actually Charles had been watching from the kitchen window. Charles is also aware of the fact that Alex had been up on the roof, overhearing the raised voice of his elder mutant and the gentle lilt of his younger one.  
He wants to believe that 'it' wasn't really much of a 'happening' at all, but he feels like he's gotten a little bit closer to unraveling the mystery that is Sean when he sees a mask take over the boy's pale features and he sees, through the young mutant's own memories, a rapidly flying fist distort his vision. He hears some sort of distant yelling along the lines of, _' You're a freak! A curse of the devil! You are not mine!'_ and '_We can't keep you in this house anymore, Seanie. Daddy and I love you, but we just can't deal with all of this. You're overcomplicating things for Cady. It's not fair on her, either, is it? Doesn't she get to live a normal life?'_

The odd thing is that he never once felt any anger directed toward these thoughts from Sean. The only emotion he felt when witnessing the replayed memories was some sort of devastated acceptance. And his thoughts were just as filled with morbid rejection as his emotions, as the only thing he heard from the boy was the steady repetition of 'Oh's.

He knows Erik can't possibly understand any of this, but he can tell by the way he leans forward slightly toward the young male in front of him that he seeks to comfort and make right what he had done wrong, even though his wrongdoings weren't such horrible misdeeds. In fact, Charles would have done the exact same thing had Erik not told him that he, with his additional height and muscle-mass, would be more imposing and therefore more effective in stalling future attempts at sneaking alcohol up into student bedrooms.

But had it been Charles, he knows that after reading the boy's thoughts, he would have grabbed him then and there and forced the memories out of his head. And that would have been no good at all. Discipline is not something you could carry out half-and-half. Sean knows that. Charles knows that he knows that.

What he doesn't know, is what he is supposed to do with this information.

* * *

Alex worries over his hide when he hears Erik's frustration. It isn't much of a lecture that he is giving Sean, but he can hear the anger very clearly. 'Ashamed' and 'repulses' have nearly no meaning to him anymore, but anger is certainly a bad thing. Anger means a beating and a beating means child protective services and child protective services mean frustration and danger and lies and schemes and prison.

Ugh. He doesn't want to think about these things. Instead, he listens intently to hear what Sean's scared response will be.

'Oh'.

Oh. _Oh_?! What does he mean, '_Oh_'?! What the hell does that even _stand_ for?!

Alex likes Sean. Hank is annoying and smart and pricky about it. But Sean is quiet and calm, leaving him with enough room to go crazy if he wants to. Not that he will, but he knows that Sean would never make a big deal out of it if he were to start throwing things at the younger mutant. Because even though he seems like he's an airhead, Alex can actually tell that he's very smart behind those calculating blue-green eyes.

It takes one to know one.

Even if Alex is a little more vocal with his objections, he can tell that Sean gets irritated by the little things in life as well. Everyone does. Normally. He says 'normally' because he's certain of the fact that the professor doesn't, but the professor isn't really normal, so that doesn't count.  
On another note, Alex may not be the _smartest_ crayon in the box, but he most definitely isn't stupid. He says stupid things, but that's just because he likes to annoy people.

In any case, he likes Sean's company. He likes to train with him and enjoys the healthy banter they shoot back and forth when no-one else is around. Whenever they go somewhere together as a team, Sean usually tags along with him. He likes it that way. He likes being a part of something small within something big. Like he is wanted and needed.

* * *

Raven sits and stares at the clouds overhead, contemplating life and its difficult contours.  
Hah! Nah, really she was simply staring at the clouds because they're fun to look at and she gets to turn her brain on zero when she does. It has nothing to do with being melancholy or an anxious teen.

On the other hand, certain thoughts do bubble up to the surface whenever she tries to think of nothing, and they usually aren't too nice.

_ Freak!_  
_What's WRONG with you?!_  
_What is that thing? _  
_It's disgusting!_  
_Don't go near it! _  
_It's not a child, is it? Why is it blue? _  
_Stay back! It's probably feral!_

Why was being blue and scaley such a bad thing, anyway? Fish are often blue and scaley. Blueberries are blue. Jeans are blue. And people dye their hair blue all the time! So what's wrong with having blue skin, red hair, and golden eyes? Why is it so terrible to be different?  
...Why doesn't anybody want her?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

Charles Xavier does not know which is the most confusing - the fact that their youngest male mutant on the team is riding the motorcycle at all, or that he's doing it with a sort of class and control he's never seen before. _The house that heaven built_ by _Japandroids_ is blasting from the vehicle's radio as the boy guides it to its designated parking spot as though leading a horse.

The young teen with copper-red hair and dark blue-green eyes eases himself off the bike and removes his helmet, allowing floppy strands of hair to fall into his eyes for a moment before pushing them back. He seems so calm, so purposeful, so _self-certain_ that for a moment Charles doesn't know what to say.  
Thankfully, he doesn't have to, since the boy turns his focus on him and speaks gently but clearly, "Thanks. For this."  
Yet again, he's speechless. He didn't buy the boy the bike - Sean had worked for it fair and square. Sure, Charles had given him money for doing extra chores and getting good grades on his exams in order to help him along, but the boy had done all the work. So why would he be thanking him? For the free hour he gave him so he could give it a spin? For the parking spot?

"I didn't think I would ever be able to feel such a thing again. I-I used to race these things for money, you know?"

He hadn't.

"It was great. I always felt so free and powerful." He says this with a dreamy smile on his face. "With flying, it feels much the same. But it's different now from back then. I used to race to get away from the chaos of solitude."

Solitude? Charles knew that Sean had often been juggled between foster families, but he hadn't known that someone so soft-spoken (heh) could have trouble fitting in with new people.

"Now I have a place to come home to." He looks like he wants to say more, but refrains for fear of sounding corny. But the professor understands.

"No problem, Sean," Charles finds himself replying, gently squeezing the boy's shoulder before leading both of them back inside.

* * *

Hank is mystified.

It was quite obvious that there would be plenty more people who had abilities, but someone who is able to consume any nourishment without getting sick...meh. Not that spectacular.

The boy is fifteen years old, lean and streamlined as a fish, and currently dumping an entire bottle of scotch down his throat.

One part of him wants to pull at the boy's black locks and scream something at him, but another part is just... mystified.

He'd come here to get his mind off of things with a stiff drink, not to recruit new mutants. Alas, he can not overlook something as clear as the crystal behind the barman. So he leans over rather uncertainly and mutters, "You shouldn't do that, you know."

The boy looks over with a disgruntled scowl and snarls, "I'm doing fine here, thanks."

"I know you think I don't understand, but listen to me when I say that people are getting curious."

The fifteen-year-old glances around and notices that, indeed, people have been watching him ponderingly for some time now. Though granted, they were idiotic slobs who spent their evenings in run-down bars where the bartender was willing to believe the fake I.D. of a kid with baby blue eyes and a fat bottom lip.

"So just... take it easy, okay? I'm sure you know what you're doing, but others are not used to kids hanging around in bars."

"Okay, first of all, dude, I don't know who you are. And secondly, go the fuck away."

The youth's bright blue eyes speak differently, though. He is obviously slightly miffed by the reference to his existence as 'kid', but determined not to make a big deal out of it. Hank decides to go easy on him.

"Listen,..."

"Jim."

He doesn't believe it for a second, but presses on. "Yeah ok, Jim, listen. There's a school where you can go to for people like you - people like us."

"Us?" the teen asks, raising his eyebrows slightly as he halts the process of tipping his glass toward his mouth.

"Yeah, I'm... I can... that is I..."

"S'okay. It's none of my business. Tell me more about this... school."

"Well, it's professor Xavier's school for gifted youngsters. They teach you how to deal with your mutation there."

"Who gave you the idea I needed any teaching? I've got it all under control."

"Maybe you think you do, Jim, but there could be flaws in the mechanisms that keep your mutation under control. Or perhaps it could improve, and you just don't know it yet."

The boy scoffs. "I think this is pretty much it, dude." He raises his glass back to his lips, but Hank covers his hand and pressed the glass back down onto the counter.

"And perhaps it is, but what if it isn't? Here, take this," he says, pressing a card into the boy's hand, "in case you change your mind. The address is fake. So's the number. Replace all e's and three's with o's in your head, okay?" As an afterthought he adds, "And have your parents phone us first."

The boy snorts but nods anyway and Hank stands up to leave. Realizing he didn't get what he came for when he entered the bar in the first place, he turns around quickly to see the boy down his glass of scotch and sighs. Suddenly his thirst for alcohol is quenched by the nauseated feeling he gets when he sees the morals of the youth of today go awry.

* * *

Alex sighs. He usually likes the one-on-one time he gets with Erik, but ever since the incident with the liquor he'd stolen from the cabinet the man acts differently around him. He knows that this is partly because of his confession that yes, it had been him who had taken it up to Sean's room, but he'd thought that Erik would get over it quickly enough.

_I mean, seriously, he's a bloody murderer and he gets angry at me for snitching something. And it's not like I really STOLE it anyway. I was going to replace it._

A sudden left-hook rams him in the jaw and he spits blood before seeing the ground beneath him. Standing on shaky legs he tries to fire a blast of energy at the older male but a tiny metal bullet hits him square in the chest where he generates his fiery charge thanks to Hank's new chest-plate. It whacks the plate but he can still feel the vibrations in his chest from the heavy slam and takes a few futile steps backwards before feeling Erik's knuckles connect with his right cheek.

"Feeling a little whoozy, air-head?" Erik taunts.

'_Don't be an asshole_' Alex retorts in his head while he coughs violently, spitting between hauls of breath. His chest feels like it's on fire and he wonders if the bullet would have hurt less without the stupid plate.

"Stupid teenagers," Erik mutters before shoving him backwards abruptly. Alex obviously hits the ground immediately since he'd been bent over trying to breathe properly and had not minded his stance in the slightest, assuming he was in the clear as long as he needed to catch his breath.

But no, apparently the little stunt he'd pulled two nights ago really did mean a lot more to Erik than he'd thought.

"Look man, I know it wasn't very clever, but could you throw me a freaking bone here?"

"If a bone is all you want, then why don't you roll over and get me the newspaper from the front step? We're not dogs, Alex. We're mutants. You want something, you work for it. And the only thing we want right now is respect. Respect from the humans. And you're not gonna' get it by doing idiotic things like stealing liquor and getting wasted like a stupid. little. boy."

"Don't say 'we' like you've ever thought to ask anyone else's opinion! I'm not a part of your little road trip to redemption! I'm here to learn more about my abilities, not to clear your fucking name!"

Alex can't help it; he's fed up. He's tired of Erik treating him like a child who doesn't know better than to stick paper wings on his arms and jump off a table repeatedly.

But when the expression on Erik's face resembles the overcast overhead, he thinks that there were better things to say than the words that left his mouth. The position he finds himself in - that being him on the floor and a dangerous man towering over him - does little for the sudden fear he feels when realizing that he should have done something smart like oh, say, grovel at the man's feet?

"You insolent little-"

"Erik."

_Oh sweet heaven it's Charles._

But Erik doesn't back off the way Alex expects him to. Instead, he gets down on his knees and grabs him by the collar, pulling him up so that his face is inches away from those sharp, gnashing teeth.

"It's time you get your act together, boy. Because you're living the life of a nobody, Summers."

That does it. He'll curse the adrenaline-rush for this later, he supposes, but right now he can't stop himself.

"Better than the life of a convict."

He expects to be feeling the man's fist break his nose any time in the near-future, but instead he sees the subtle darkening of the older mutant's green eyes and the slight, insecure twitching of his eyebrow, before he's released.

He doesn't know how much time passes between the sound of Erik's heavy footfalls on soft grass and Charles' hand on his shoulder.

* * *

Charles sighs. The only reason he'd gone looking for Erik in the first place was because of the new addition to their gang of mutants. He'd been happy to hear of the new recruit since Angel and Darwin's demise, but upon taking in the sight of an angered Erik being a little too rough with Alex... let's just say he isn't so certain they know what they're doing anymore.

"Did I really screw up so badly?" Alex suddenly asks, peering up at him with those big sky blue eyes he probably uses to charm the ladies.

"Truthfully, Alex, this doesn't have anything to do with me, anymore."

He can tell that his answer isn't sufficient. The boy was looking for some advice from mama bear to make papa bear proud of him again, but Charles isn't so sure what Erik wants, anymore, himself.

"But is it really such a disrespectful thing I did? I mean, sure, it wasn't smart, and it was bad for our health, but I was gonna' replace the bottle. It's not like I stole it just to steal, or to make you guys upset. I took the bottle that looked the cheapest and most uninteresting so I knew that you guys wouldn't need it anytime soon."

Charles laughs. "So you _were_ using your head."

Alex smirks. "In a way."

"Look, Alex, I don't think it matters much to Erik what you took or how valuable it was. He just doesn't want to see any of his fellow Mutants stealing from one-another."

"But I didn't steal it!"

Charles raises his brows at the boy.

Alex is slightly cowed by the action, but not entirely. "I didn't take it with the intention of doing any of you harm."

"You took something that wasn't yours, Alex."

"So whenever we take a shower, we steal water?"

"You very well know the difference between those two things, young man, so don't say such foolish things. Alex, you know what Erik's looking for, so just give it to him. Let go of your pride for once. God knows he's only trying to do what's right by you."

"No, Charles, I really don't know what he wants from me."

"An apology, Alex. It's as simple as that." At least, he hopes.

"If that's all he wanted, he could've said so, without laying into me that painfully."

"I agree," Charles chuckles, patting the teen's head before helping him up. "Just so you know, Alex..."

"Mm?"

"I truly think you're mature enough and old enough to drink in moderation and I don't mind you taking it from the liquor cabinet, so in the future, don't sneak around, alright? I'd rather have you drinking at home than at one of those completely unsanitary clubs you teens are so dreadfully attracted to."

Alex grins again, and it makes Charles smile.

"Sure, prof."

* * *

"Snake eyes," Raven says, and moves the little hat two spaces further on the board. "Madrid? I'll take that."

"Two hundred please," Sean answers, accepting the orange bills.

She rolls again and lands on Paris. "Eh, why not?"

"Two fifty."

Two orange and one blue.

Raven holds on to the blue bill a little longer before handing it to Sean. It's worth less than the orange and the purple one, but more than the green or the yellow ones. So what is wrong with being blue?

Sean's sigh snaps her attention back to the board.

"I always land on the dingy ones."

There's a sudden knock on the door and they both look up. Charles walks in, looking haggard and weary and Raven worries a little until she spots the grass stains on his knees and realizes that he must've been outside with Alex and that crazy lunatic.

Raven doesn't like Erik all that much when he's angry. She respects him and finds him incredible when he's speaking his mind, but when he goes off on this tangent about how Mutants should be worth more than humans, she'd rather stuff her shoe in his mouth than listen to him whine.

Sure, she wants to be accepted by society, but not feared or laughed at. She also doesn't want the humans to grovel at her feet, though. She doesn't even want her natural appearance to be considered beautiful. Just normal. Acceptable. Ordinary.

She wants to be plain and dull and white toast with butter.

"'Sup, prof?" Sean asks, and Charles sits down before answering.

"Well, there's going to be an addition to the group very soon. Hank's the one who found him."

"Hank? Where'd he go that he was able to encounter a Mutant who openly flaunts its abilities?" Raven puts forth.

"Well, he found him in a bar."

"Oh great, another old dude to boss us around," she remarks playfully, rolling her eyes.

"Well, actually, Raven, he's about fifteen years old."

Sean, who'd gone back to rearranging the haphazard row of little houses on one of his streets, looks up at this. "A kid in a bar?" he asks, even though he's only one year older than the boy and detests being called a kid.

"Yes, Hank thought it quite baffling as well. Luckily he managed to halt the boy's downward spiral and he's contacted us. We think he'll be a nice asset to the team."

"What's his power?"

"Well, for now, all we know is that he can hold his liquor."

"Huh?" is Raven's most eloquent remark.

"Well, alcohol doesn't affect him. He doesn't get drunk or even slightly tipsy, and there are no signs of nausea."

"But that can be thanks to something other than a mutation," Sean says, obviously doubting Hank's expertise on the domain. Raven doesn't know why, but she feels like she has to stand up for the scientist who told her he's so much like her.

"Hank knows what he's doing, Sean. He wouldn't just pick up a random stranger from a bar to come to this institute."

"Everyone makes mistakes," is Sean's meek reply.

"Well, I'm sure Hank didn't make a mistake on this one."

"Okay."

As usual, Sean isn't willing to be the catalyst that sets everything off again. He's probably had enough since having Erik breathing down his neck.

"In any case, I trust you will all be very welcoming and open toward our new member," Charles says, standing up again and heading for the doorway.

"Oh, Charles," Raven stops him, "what's his name?"

"He uses a false identity, so for now we'll have to call him Jim Barrons, but I'm sure that once he opens up to us we'll be able to call him by his real name."

"A fake I.D., huh..." she reiterates contemplatingly.

"Don't get any ideas, Raven."

She smiles playfully up at him and they continue their game, but somewhere inside her head a little voice is saying '_What's the harm?_'

"I'm bankrupt," Sean suddenly remarks, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"Wanna' go again?"

"Nah, I think Sandra misses me."

"I still can't believe you named your bike."

* * *

Erik sighs, feeling like exhaling is all he's been doing for the past hour. His chest feels tight and the hammering of his heart against his ribs is worse than the prickling of his fingertips which are aching to send Sean's shiny new motorcycle crashing into the garage door.

As though on pure instinct, the boy comes down to check on the vehicle, before spotting him in the corner of the room.

"Oh, Erik, I just came down to see if- you know- everything was...ship-shape..."

He knows the boy feels stupid for wanting to look at the motorcycle as much as driving it, so he decides to take pity on him.

"She's a beauty," he says, and Sean looks up with big dark green-grey eyes, afraid that the words are a hint to take cover. Erik sighs again. Why does this child fear him so

_Do they all fear me? _

"Erik I know that what I did was wrong but please if you could not destroy her I would really be very grateful and I swear I'll never do it again just please don't break her."

"Kid needs breath," Erik replies, willing him to calm down.

Sean obeys instinctively and Erik wonders if this is what he wanted or not. Did he want to inspire fear in others, demanding ultimate submission? Or did he want them to think for themselves and stand up to those who would crush their Mutant spirits?

Perhaps a combination of the two?

Still sitting on the little ladder in the corner of the room, he moves his chin from his intertwined fingers and makes a move for Sean to come closer. Though he is hesitant, he is obviously more afraid of disobeying him since his dear motorcycle's life is on the line.

When he is close enough for Erik to look him in the eye and be certain that he's looking back instead of focusing on his nose, he says, "I know that. I know that you won't do something like that again. And I also know that you'll do other things," he shakes his head to ward off the scared little sound Sean makes in the back of his throat to tell him differently, "and this is not a terrible thing as long as Charles and or myself can stop these actions before they get too dangerous. You're still a kid, Sean, so it's alright for you to make mistakes."

The boy's eyes widen ridiculously at this remark and Erik has to quiet the voice in his head screaming at him to destroy whomever made him feel like he was supposed to be some flawless little puppet.

"Just tell me this. Did you drink it 'cause you thought it was cool and 'cause Alex was around, or because of personal reasons?"

"W-well kind of a bit of both."

Erik waits for him to explain instead of prompting him with needless words.

"I like hanging out with Alex. But the burning in my throat feels good, too."

_He does drink that horrifying lemon juice..._ Erik recalls, and for a moment he feels bad for being so rotten to the boy about the stupid liquor. It was the bloody cheap kind, too. He'd been kind of shocked to have found such a cheap substance in the Xavier mansion, but he hadn't been all too surprised to find out that the boys had taken it. _Probably because of the shiny casing. _

"Self-destructive behavior is quite vexing, Sean. Maybe you should talk to Charles about this."

"How so?"

"Don't think I'm not clever enough to link this to your mutation. You're obviously bothered by something and taking it out on yourself. Unfortunately, I don't know how to deal with these things, so you need to go to Charles for help."

For a second, he thinks he sees a flicker of irritation cross the boy's features, until it settles into quiescence.

"Oh."

That damned word again.

Is he going about this the wrong way?


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

Everyone is seated in the front room, shuffled either close together (mostly around Raven and Charles) or far apart. All eyes are on the boy with messy raven hair and bright blue eyes. They are all calm and quiescent, though earlier it was pretty obvious that Raven was excited about meeting a new Mutant and Sean had been pleased that he would no longer be the baby of the group.

He had been adamant that everyone realize this as well.

"Jim," the boy, standing on the carpet in the middle of the room, introduces himself, "Jim Barrons." He has a self-confidence about him that lures Alex in. He had been just as confident a couple of years earlier. But then he had gone and ruined everything and been placed in solitary confinement. He'd gone and screwed everything up.

A part of him hopes that this 'Jim' person will trust him enough to tell him his real name, but another part of him wants the kid to stay as far away from him as possible so he doesn't have to face his past mistakes and see the person he used to be, before the accident. He doesn't want to see the person he could have been.

Charles is speaking pleasantly about how happy they all are that he has joined them and how they go about studies in the institute and yada yada yada. Alex tunes the conversation out and rests his cheek on his fist, leaning toward the side that Sean is at, sitting on the floor beside his chair. Sean doesn't really seem to be paying attention, either, instead fiddling with the strings of his sweater as he stares at Jim's changing expressions.

He waits until he has Sean's attention and then rolls his eyes, feeling victorious when Sean snorts. But one irritated look from Erik has dread pooling in the pit of his stomach and he quickly glances outside, pretending to be captivated by some fighting pigeons.

When the Professor's speech is finally over, he suggests,

"Alex, why don't you show Jim to his room?"

Him? Wouldn't Hank be a better candidate for this task? Obviously the first person Jim is going to be truly acquainted with will most likely become a close friend of his. The best person for Jim at this moment would be Hank or perhaps even Sean. Not him.

"Yeah, sure," he says anyway, knowing he could never voice these thoughts aloud.

"I could kill for some paprika chips right now," he hears Sean announce as he leaves the room with the new kid. Ugh dang it. He could kill for some paprika chips, too.

* * *

"So, this is your room. Right now we've each got our own rooms but pretty soon we'll have to start sharing 'cause there will be more new recruits and all that. You can choose how you want to decorate your room but just make sure not to break anything 'cause there are some really valuable paintings on these walls. Don't ask me why, though, 'cause they were obviously left unused by anyone. Ah well."

Alex seems a little tense. He wonders why. Obviously, the blonde teen has nothing to fear from him. Unless he thinks he has some kind of awesome power or anything. Maybe he should unveil the truth to allow him to find peace.

"So what's your mutation?" he asks.

"Huh? Uh, well... I can shoot bolts of fire at people. You?" For some reason it seems as though Alex already knows the answer to this question. Still, it takes him quite a lot of unnecessary anxiety to push the words out of his mouth.

"I can drink alcohol and not get drunk." There. It's out. The most unimpressive power ever had.

"You mean intoxicating drinks don't affect your brain?"

"Uh.. yeah, I suppose."

"Sweet! That probably means that poisons don't affect you, either. 'Cause if it doesn't affect your brain, it probably also doesn't affect any of your other organs. How about smoking? Have you ever had your lungs checked out by a doctor before?"

He doesn't know how to reply to all this incredibly biological input so he simply states, "I don't smoke."

"Well, that's good - you shouldn't. But still, it'd be cool to see if it would affect your lungs or not."

"I don't think it works that way."

"How do you know? I never thought I'd be able to aim my blasts at a target before the Professor and Bigfoot found a way to make it happen."

"Who's Bigfoot?"

"The scientist, Hank. He's got mutated feet that look like hands."

"You mean the dude that walked into the bar and spoke with me?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Why don't you just call him Hank?"

The question seems to catch Alex off-guard and the boy sneers,"Because I don't feel like it."

"'Kay." His meagre response seems to take the chip off Alex' shouder and he explains,

"And because we all have codenames. Only, Hank hasn't really got one, yet. So I call him Bigfoot."

"What's your codename?"

"Havok."

"Sounds fitting."

Alex once again doesn't seem pleased with his remark. He makes a note not to push his free speech boundaries with this one.

"Sean's is Banshee. 'Cause of the screeching thing."

"Cool."

"Raven is Mystique." Alex seems to be remembering something funny before sobering and looking sort of melancholy and weary. The blonde clears his throat quickly and finishes up, "And then there's the Professor and Erik, whose codename is Magneto 'cause he controls metal."

"Awesome." He knows he doesn't sound sufficiently awed, but he truly doesn't have the energy to express anything other than fatigue and mild curiosity at this very moment.

"We're probably going to have dinner at six thirty, so you might want to unpack and settle in beforehand. You should really enjoy this free time, because starting tomorrow, no matter how green you are behind the ears, you're going to be stuck with our sucky training and studying schedule as well."

"Sounds horrific."

"It is. So, I'll leave you to it, then. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask Hank. He generally knows everything about everything."

He rewards Alex with a chuckle. "Alright, will do." And after that, he is left alone with his thoughts.

* * *

"You're moping."

Raven looks up quickly, embarrassed at being caught in her cross-legged, face-cradling, lip-pouting position. "Am not," she responds instantly when she realizes she's speaking to Charles.

"Yes you are. You forget, little sister, that I have known you long enough to recognize that particular shade of gold," Charles teases her, knowing that her eye colour changes when she's agitated or tired.

She smiles at him as he sits down beside her and wraps an arm around her shoulders. "What is it, darling? What could possibly be bothering that pretty head of yours?"

She doesn't take too kindly to the compliments. "It's just that. _This_ head is pretty. Some might call it beautiful, even. If I wanted to, I could walk around as someone who looks like Angelina Jolie. But that's not me, Charles."

"Of course it isn't. The only you there is is you. It's about who you are on the inside that counts."

She stands up, huffing. "Don't you get it, though? I don't _want_ to have to change my appearance! I don't _want_ to wake up in the morning and see something in the mirror gazing back at me that -"

"Raven! How dare you refer to yourself as a 'thing'! You happen to be my little sister, whom I love and respect an awful lot. So quit feeling sorry for yourself and try to see the amazing qualities you have which we can all see but you, somehow, can not."

"That's such an easy solution."

"Why should it be hard? Sometimes the best solution is the easy one."

"I knew you wouldn't get it."

Before he can argue any further, she exits the room with an impatient and irritated huff.

* * *

Hank is immersed in his personal study of Copernicus when suddenly a mop of black hair enters his vision. He shoves his desk chair back a little and sees Jim leaning over his desk, trying to read his findings upside-down.

"Hello," he greets uncertainly.

The boy looks up, not so interested in his paper anymore, and says, "Hey. Alex told me that if I had any questions, I should go to you, so, at what time does class start?"

Hank can't help smiling. The youth may be a boozer who can't get drunk, but he's still a bright young spirit who wishes to learn. "You won't have class until tomorrow, and even then only Charles and I teach."

"You teach?"

"Yeah."

"You're so young, though."

"Thanks... I guess."

"What do you teach? Physics?"

"And Chemistry. Charles handles Biology, History and Math. Once we find good teachers for the other classes, though, I'm sure many other subjects will be taught here."

"There aren't many of us in this Institute. When you told me about it, I was expecting a drabby old grey building filled with rowdy children climbing on walls and coughing up fur."

Hank chuckles. "You do like to indulge your imagination."

"It's a skill. So what's up with Alex?"

"Hmm?" Why did he have to bring up blondie? He sees enough of the idiot during the day.

"He seems a little weird around me."

"Don't worry about it, Alex is just a weird person. If he's insulting you, just ignore it. It's the one thing that really pisses him off."

"No, he's not insulting me." Jim actually looks baffled that he would suggest such a thing.

"Then what's wrong?"

"Well, he just seems... I dunno'... mildly insecure around me. Like I'm some rabid dog or something."

"Alex? Insecure?" Maybe he confused him with Sean.

"Yeah. I'm probably wrong and he just ate something bad or somethin'. Forget about it. What'cha doing?"

Hank wants to ask him to return to the previous subject, but realizing that he would be putting too much interest in blondie's personal life, he refrains from doing so and replies, "I'm writing a paper on Copernicus."

"Is it homework or something?"

"No. This is for personal educational reasons."

"This shit actually _interests_ you?"

Hank can only barely control the urge to scold the boy for his language and threaten to soap out his mouth. "Yes, Barrons, this stuff really interests me."

"Crazy, dude."

"Well, in any case, you should head on up. We're probably going to eat in about five minutes and I'm sure you're hungry."

"How can you be so sure?"

"You're fifteen."

"Ah. Point taken."

* * *

Dinner actually explained absolutely nothing about Jim, except for the fact that he likes green beans. Charles knows he could easily slip into the boy's mind and find out what his real name is and whatnot, but seeing as that would be a major breach of etiquette and respect for his privacy, he decides not to. It was funny to watch Jim and Sean interact, though. They shared light-hearted, witty remarks with each other, and Sean seemed to be getting along with Jim better than anyone else in the mansion. The funny part was that Jim often didn't realize that Sean was being sarcastic or ironic. In turn, though, Sean didn't catch the deeper meaning of many things Jim said. On the whole, though, it was good to have them engage in smooth, easy conversation, seeing as it would no doubt have been an awkward meal had Sean not been around to save the day.

No doubt Alex was thinking the exact same thing, having not been able to so much as look at Erik as he passed him the pepper. In turn, Erik had given the boy such an icy glare that he could probably feel it without even having to look up. Charles had groaned inwardly.

Now though, as Raven stacks the dishes in the dishwasher and Hank swipes leftover crumbs off the table, things are peaceful and quiet. And just as he wonders how long the peace and quiet will last, the phone rings and he rushes to the den to answer it.

"Xavier residence."

-"Hello, this is Bill Cassidy speaking."-

"Mister Cassidy! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

-"Please put my son on the phone."-

"Uhm, right, of course... Just a moment."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

Sean's voice, no matter how shrill and piercing it could be when he wanted it to, didn't carry. But Charles didn't need it to. He knew that if something were very wrong, the first person the boy would come to would be him. He was glad for this, for he knew that though it was probably partly because Erik is a scarier and more imposing figure, it was also partly because he trusted Charles with his problems.

So he respected the copper-haired teen's privacy and sat in his study, waiting for Sean to come to him. Because there was no doubt of the fact that something _was_ wrong. He can still remember the evil things the boy's parents said to him and how they dismissed him so brusquely and the way he had always replied with a simple 'oh' as though the world could be described with said single syllable. As though his entire life had been nothing but some morbid plaything he was mildly fascinated with but would rather set his tooth marks in and throw against the wall. And then an alarming thought hit him - was Sean a masochist? No. It couldn't be. Masochists were more extreme, less controlled, less like... like Sean. But what if he practiced a mild form of masochism in his head? Or were his previous speculations true, is Sean bipolar? And what does that make them, then, for not having noticed it earlier?

But before he can continue with this track his thoughts have been set on, he sees Sean walk by the open door to his study without entering. But this isn't quite as odd as the teartracks on his face. So Charles instantly stands up, no longer set on respecting Sean's privacy and letting him ignore his wounded feelings and instead planning on getting every answer he wishes to hear out of the teen, even if he has to enter his mind.

It is with this pointed frame of mind that he raps his knuckles on the door to Sean's room and waits to hear the teen's muffled 'enter' which never comes. His heart doesn't skip a beat and he simple opens the door smoothly, prepared to face any 'I'd like to be alone, prof's or 'Please get out's Sean decides to throw his way. But it is not to be borne. Sean is sitting on the floor, leaning his back against his bed and cradling the sides of his head in his hands as his fingers dig through thick copper red hair. He doesn't acknowledge Charles' presence, nor does he turn away from him when the man sinks down to the ground and hunches in front of him.

It hurts. It hurts to watch this boy in pain. He had never realized just how attached he had become to his students until now. And this one in particular, the one who shies away from confrontation and holes himself up in his room to nurse his wounded heart as he tries to block out all evil. A piercing ache settles in Charles' chest and he can't refrain from cupping the strong, sharp little chin and tilting his head back so he can look into those stormy green-grey eyes.

"What happened?" he asks, aware of the tremble in his voice. He can't deny it.

Sean takes his time to reply, and Charles doesn't rush him.

"Mum died."

First comes shock. Then sympathy. Then grief. "I'm so sorry, Sean."

But the boy shakes his head. It's something else that's troubling him as well, then. Charles places two tentative fingers on his temple and asks, "May I?"

Sean looks away, biting his lip. It's only when anxious eyes redirect their gaze and settle onto his as the boy nods that he begins.

.

.

_"Hello?" _

_"Sean." _

_"Yes father, it's me. What is it you wanted to tell me?" _

_"Your mother has passed away."_

_All sound fades out, except for a dull beeping in his eardrums. And then, somewhere in the distance, he can hear, 'Seanie, can you say mama? Ma-ma. How about dada? No? It's okay sweety, take your time. We've been waiting for you for a very long time, Seanie, we can wait for you to start speaking a little longer. Mummy loves you just the same.' _

_"Oh."_

_"The reason for this phone call was to tell you not to come back to the house whenever you have too much free time on your hands, anymore. There's a reason you went to the institute, and Cady can't take all of your stuff on top of this." _

_Sean glances around, noticing how the Mutants in the house seem to have conveniently flocked around him._

_"Yes, things are good at the mansion, father." _

_"Did you hear me, Sean?! Your mother is gone and she's not going to protect you, anymore! Don't show your face around here, understand?!" _

_"Yes father. I'll make sure." _

_The man on the other end hangs up, but Sean puts on a brave face and says kindly, "You too, father. Say hi to Cady for me. Bye." _

.  
.

Charles pulls out of the boy's mind and watches Sean curl further in on himself.

"Why didn't you come to me with this?" Charles can't help asking. He wants to know why the teen hadn't told them about his maniac father before, and why he hadn't cried this hurt out in his office straight away. He'd always known that Sean was more of a self-sufficient person who preferred to lick his wounds in solitude, but this was simply too big a deal to take on by oneself.

Sean stands up stiffly and makes his way over to the window, trying to cross his arms casually but grabbing onto his shoulderblades as if to try and hold himself together. "'Cause, I can take care of it on my own. It's cool. I'll deal."

"No, you most certainly will not if you do it on your own." Charles tries to make his way over to the teenage Mutant, but Sean turns around quickly and faces him with currently-emerald-green blazing orbs of contempt. "I would appreciate it if you didn't speak to me like I'm some childish idiot."

"Sean-"

"I've dealt with this ever since I could make a sound. No one ever cared enough to help me back then, and I have learned to stand on my own two. So that's what I'll do now. Not because I don't trust any of you, but because that's the way I know how to do it."

A painful stinging sensation spreads through Charles' limbs and pools in his chest. "But that's not the way we do it around here," he replies, resolute. "You don't get to decide to go through this stuff on your own, anymore, Sean. The moment you walked through that door, no, the moment Erik and I saw you at the aquarium, you had already lost your rights to that."

Sean looks tired and haggard as he runs a hand through his shaggy hair. "It's more complicated than that, prof. I don't question your ability to take care of shit like this with other people. But you won't be helping me as much as driving me away. Trust me."

Charles reaches out and places a tentative hand on the teen's shoulder. "Sean, we merely wish to be there for you in your time of need."

Sean shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, seeming for all the world a man about to head out into combat. "I am not in a time of need, professor. I'm merely experiencing a momentary setback."

"Your mother died, Sean."

When he sees the tears filling the boy's eyes to the brim, he doesn't feel triumphant at all, rather, he feels like he just kicked a wounded puppy. And the worst part is, he doesn't know what to say to make things better.

But, the teenage Mutant doesn't require a reply as he is dashing for the bathroom in an instant, dropping to his knees as he reaches the porcelain bowl and retching until he regurgitates breakfast, lunch and supper.

It is for the best that Charles has found himself in a similar position multiple times after going out to drink with his college friends and is therefore capable of completely ignoring the sounds and smells and trotting over to the copperhead instead.

He does for Sean what Raven would do for him; he wets a washcloth and helps him clean up his visage as he rubs gentle circles on the boy's right shoulderblade. They go through the process in silence, though by the confusing and muddled thoughts and images he can detect in the boy's mind, he can tell that Sean may very well be only slightly aware of his presence.

And then suddenly Sean's eyes roll back in his skull and he falls backwards, missing the floor only by an inch as Charles catches him swiftly around the small of his back and his neck. The man curses under his breath and telepathically calls for Erik to help him get Sean down to the lab.

* * *

Hank is beffudled when Erik drops an out-cold Sean on his exam table and Charles reprimands him for being so harsh.

"Quit coddling him," is Erik's reply and Charles groans before turning his attention to the scientist.

"He lost consciousness after regurgitating profusely."

"He what?" Erik asks.

"He zonked out after vomiting a shitload," Hank clarifies.

"Ah." Oh, Erik. Ever so eloquent.

"So is he ailing or anything?"

"Well..." Charles started, uncharacteristically uncertain, "that's what we're here to find out. It could be an additional factor to the fainting."

"Additional to?"

Erik joins Hank in the curious staring at Charles until the man finally caves and whispers, "Sean's mother passed away."

"Ohh..." Hank feels terrible. And by the look on Erik's face, the man is in a pretty similar state, perhaps even worse.

"I'll uhm... I'll run some tests then and I'll uh, let you know if I find anything."

"Thank you, Hank."

"No prob, prof'."

When the two men depart, Hank places a careful palm on Sean's forehead, feeling for excessive heat and trying to soothe simultaneously. Sean moans in his unconscious state and furls his eyebrows. Hank attempts three times to swallow his grief and fails.

* * *

Alex doesn't know what's been going on lately, but everyone in the mansion (sans the new kid) seems to be acting weirder than usual. It's almost like they're planning some sort of huge war and are trying to keep the press from reaching him so he can sign up. He doesn't know whether to feel like some stupid little kid who relies on his gut instinct too much or angry for being left out of something so important.

"I don't get it. I thought we had Chem. Where's Hank?" Jim suddenly asks from behind him, causing him to jump up.

"Whoops, sorry, didn't mean ta startle ya."

"'S fine. And Bigfoot's probably just doing some personal research or whatever. There are only four of us here who need teaching, and technically Raven doesn't need the extra lessons since she knows most of this stuff already. So in the end it's basically you, me and..."

"Sean?" Jim pipes up, but Alex is too preoccupied with _finding_ the redhead to reply.

"He probably overslept. No big deal. He sleeps in all the time. Dim ginger needs a better alarm clock."

"I won't argue that," he suddenly hears a deep, gruff voice announce from the doorway, sending him about a foot in the air once more. He turns around swiftly, hoping Jim didn't notice, and faces Erik with a passive expression.

"But there is a different reason why mister Cassidy hasn't joined for class today."

"Which is?" Alex pries, hoping beyond hope that his friend isn't sick. If he is, he'll have to spend the day with the new kid.

"Banshee passed out after getting some bad news." He can tell that Erik is summarizing what actually happened, but is still shocked and worried.

"Bad news?" he repeats, "What kind of bad news?"

"His mother passed away."

Alex hears Jim draw a sharp breath as he also attempts to breathe through his own shock. "Where is he?"

"In Hank's lab. And no, you can't go see him. Yet."

Alex ignores him and heads straight for Bigfoot's laboratory. That is, until Erik seizes a strong grip on his upper arm. "Stay put, Havok," the man growls.

"He's my friend!" Alex barks back, trying to shrug out of the man's hold but failing. "Let me go, Erik! Sean needs someone to stay with him right now!"

"He's passed out. You can do him no good. The both of you will head over to the weight room, where you shall explain to mister Barrons how to use the equipment. And do blow off some steam while you're at it. You need it."

"Fuck. Off."

"Okay, that's it." Erik surprises him by grabbing him by his collar and yanking him up the stairs to the weight room. He doesn't know whether to scream at Jim to get help or if he should just accept the fact that he's about to be crushed by various metals with a shred of dignity.  
"I've had it with your self-absorbed attitude, boy."

"Well I've had it with your allmighty-stick-up-your-ass attitude!" Alex bites back, for, if he's going to get crushed, he might as well go down after giving Erik a piece of his mind. "Quit acting like you're the leader around here!"

It doesn't seem to take even the slightest hesitation -or effort- for Erik to toss him across the room, causing him to knock his back against the leg-press device.

"Oh and I suppose you would rather be leader, then?"

"_Charles_ is the leader. You're just a random dude he saved. You're one of us, you're the same as Sean, Raven, Angel, Darwin, Jim and I!"

_Fuck._ He'd gone and mentioned Darwin and Angel again. Great, now the painful feeling in his chest will linger for another few days.

Erik barks out a harsh laugh. "You should read up on your material before trying to tell me what I am, boy. And just to prove to you on a how much higher level I am, you're going to be staying there until I think you're ready to pay your superiors their due respect."

"What the fuck are you-" but before he can say any more, hunks of metal have him stuck to the wall, dumbbells holding him tight by his wrists and ankles. "You're fucked up, you hear me?! Fucked up!"

"I hear you, Summers. And I think I'd rather not." The metal presses down on him just enough to hurt and he shuts his mouth.

"Better. Now, you'll be calming that irrepressible temper of yours and when I feel you've sufficiently calmed and learned your lesson, I'll consider letting you go."

Alex feels like tearing the man's head off and screaming as loud as he can for someone to come and get him out of this situation, but his manhood states that he doesn't want anyone finding him in this position, beaten so easily by Magneto. So he hangs his head, instead, ignoring the man as Erik exits the room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

Hank steps back and gives the boy some space when Sean finally cracks open crusty eyes and stares around with a dull, unimpressed expression on his face. When he spots the scientist, he manages a small smile and covers his disappointment with a yawn. Hank realizes that the one person Sean would have been at least mildly happy to see is the professor, but the prof is busy with... well, whatever it is that keeps his mind off of the constant nagging that seems to be a permanently ongoing thing in this household.

"'Sup, Hank? What's the damage? And how'd it happen? Please tell me I at least landed a good one on whoever knocked me out."

"Well, actually..."

"It wasn't Alex, was it? Ugh, he's never gonna' shut up about that."

"No, it was-"

"Ohpleasegodno. Not Erik."

"No."

"Jim?" Sean sighs, appearing for all the world a little child who's been forced to team up with the class loser.

"Sean, you passed out all by yourself."

"Ah... I see... Is that normal?"

"No, Sean, it's not exactly, well, er, normal, but, given your, erm, current situation, uh..." Hank feels just about ready to kick himself. He hasn't been this tongue-tied since his first day at Harvard. Then again, he'd only been thirteen, and he'd been surrounded by eighteen-year-old geniuses.

He is saved from explaining anything to his fellow Mutant, though, when the professor walks in. It's almost as though simply seeing the man is enough to set Sean's brain to rights and Hank can almost see the wheels turning in the boy's head as his expression turns from sulky to melancholy to utterly devastated.

"I... I think I'm going to go get some air."

"Alright, I'll go with you," the professor states good-naturedly, obviously not intending for it to be a suggestion.

"I don't think that's a good idea, prof, I feel like being a little higher up today."

Since this is Sean they're talking about, Hank isn't sure if the kid's talking about flying or drugs. Or both.

"That's alright. I make for a good spotter."

Well, yes, with that mind's eye thing going on in that head of his, the professor emdoes/em make for an excellent spotter.

Sean seems to contemplate his fight or flight options and simply opts for docility in the end. With a shrug of his shoulders, he caves, and mutters, "Whatever you want, prof."

If the professor's face lights up in that not-quite-subtle way it always does when he feels like he's getting somewhere with one of them, and if Hank catches the slightly overprotective way the man's eyes roam the young Mutant's face for any signs of discomfort, he thinks the prof can be forgiven for his mother-henning.

For, even if the new kid is now technically the youngest, Sean is always going to be the baby of the original X-men.

* * *

Alex groans and tries to roll out the kink in his neck, failing for the thousandth time. He's surprised by how physically _tiring_ it can be to be limited to one position for hours on end and wishes desperately for some sort of reprieve.

And then, either because God has heard him or because he's a lucky bastard, Jim suddenly strolls into the room with the most carefree gait Alex has ever seen.

"Newbie! Oh man am I glad to see you! I need you to help me get these fucking things off of me."

"Hm? Oh sure."

"Seriously?"

"What?" Doe eyes blink innocently.

"You're not even going to ask?"

"Well, why should I? I'm not the one who's going to be in trouble. It's better to remain in the dark at this point, I think."

"Oh. Well... Okay then." And Alex decides then and there that he _definitely_ doesn't like the new kid. Sean would have laughed and pointed, sure, but at least he would have cared enough to _ask_. Heck, even Hank would have been curious as to who had put him in such a position in the first place. And the professor would have been plain horrified. And pissed as shit.

Speaking of pissed as shit... In comes the person bearing the very epitome of said emotion.

"I believe I said that I would decide when you'd regained your equilibrium," Erik states, looking particularly in need of a punch in the face.

"Fuck o-" but before he can finish his irritated snarl, the new kid has covered his mouth with his hand and is smiling tightly, stating, "I'm sorry, Erik, I just saw Alex stuck to the wall like that and I thought maybe he could use some help. He told me not to, but I didn't believe you would actually chain him to the wall so... it's actually kinda' my fault."

Well, that was totally unexpected.

Erik seems to see right through the lie, but his respect for the kid's loyalty and the will for them all to get along like a real team overrides his will to goad Alex into losing his temper and proving his right.

He makes a show of sighing and planting his palms on his hips. "Fine. Get up, Alex."

Alex makes a face but resists the temptation to remain seated just to get on the man's nerves.

"You will be on kitchen duty for the rest of the week. Oh, and you'll be painting your little savior's room for him. Jim, let me know which color you want it and I'll order the paint for mister big guns."

Alex snarls at the man and is about to scream at him to quit belittling him, but he knows that to do so would be the same as losing his cool over some dumb words that left the older Mutant's mouth, and that would definitely label him as some bratty, overly-hormonal teenager, so he shuts his mouth and lowers his head, glaring at the floor tiles instead.

"Uhm, okay sir," Jim manages to stammer, probably not at all impressed by Erik's lack of consideration for Alex's well-being. Then again, he hasn't seen what Erik's real strengths are, and he knows nothing of what the man is really capable of. So spotting a fellow Mutant nailed to the wall and crushed by heavy metal mustn't have gone over that well with the boy.

Alex finds himself liking the newbie a little more.

* * *

Raven sighs when she exits the pharmacy. The boy working behind the counter used to flirt with her every time she swung by, causing her to come there more often for the most mundane things. She bought disinfectant spray and band-aids and gauze so often that she had actually had to make up an older sister for whom she had had to buy a pregnancy test. And the stupid teen had never accumulated the nerve to ask her out. Perhaps because she knows words like 'accumulated'. Perhaps because a smart pharmacist would rather have some dumb blonde for arm candy than the smart young woman she knows she is.

"I'll get over it in two days," she promises herself, stuffing the stupid princess-print chapstick in her pocket and throwing the plastic bag away. Take that, Mother Nature. This is all the stupid pharmacy boy's fault.

She sighs again. For some reason, the heat of the sun beating down upon her face feels more like a weight than a warm balm. Lately, she just feels so...

So blue.

* * *

"Watch out for those trees!"

Sean tries not to smirk. He's flown through this forest about a million times before and yet still the prof warns him to mind the occasional branch here or there. It's kind of endearing, if also completely annoying and unnecessary.

After about thirty minutes of enjoying nearly giving Charles a heart attack every five seconds, the professor requests that he take a breather. The teen obliges and heads down to where Charles is standing in the cleanly-mowed grass.

For lack of words that come to mind, the prof sits down on his coat and Sean plunks himself down before him, yet turned away so he doesn't have to look the man in the eye and see all of the pity nestled in those bright blue orbs.

"We're all here for you, Sean," the professor says after a few uncomfortably silent minutes.

"I know."

"And whenever you need us-"

"You're there and I can talk to you. I know."

Charles smirks and runs a hand through the boy's messy copper strands of hair. "Well I want to make sure you can always actually take us up on that offer, lad. I don't just say these things because I enjoy the sound of the words. Whenever you need me, I'm there."

"You're here right now."

Charles gives him a questioning look.

"Look, I know she's not _gone_ gone – I know she's somewhere out there. But the problem is that she's just not with me, here. And for now, I'll just have to deal with it. I- I've never really been good with words, so, I just kind of, kind of need to be able to do things like I normally would, just... just not alone."

Charles risks shuffling over to the teen and laying an arm around his shoulders. "You never are, my boy."

* * *

Hank spies Jim eating popcorn in the living room in front of the TV, looking for all the world an ordinary teenager. But lying on his stomach on the floor in front of him is Alex Summers, and that makes everything all the more more complicated.

For, if Jim can become friends with Alex that quickly, then he must be either extremely weird, or Alex owes him something but nothing too extreme that makes him feel guilty about owing him big time.

For Jim's sake, Hank decides not to pose the question and just plops down on one of the armchairs, reaches for a handful of popcorn, ignores Jim's shock as he is pulled out of his absorption into the TV-screen, and enjoys his free hour away from the lab. For, as much as the lab is usually a safe haven for him to clear his mind in science, it is now a reminder of a pale-looking copperhaired young Mutant teen who is currently probably trying his hardest to convince Charles that he's fine.

"Hey, Hank," Jim suddenly asks, "is everything okay with Sean?" Karma. It's karma. But what did Hank ever do wrong?

Alex turns around abruptly, probably surprised by Hank's sudden appearance and partly embarrassed to be found 'socializing' with the newbie but too interested in Sean's well-being to get up and leave.

"I don't really know, Jim. Physically, he's still himself. But mentally... that's up to the professor to find out."

Almost as if karma is really out to get him, Erik and Raven walk in then and Raven asks, "Any news from Sean, yet?"

"'Pparently not," Jim replies.

"Look, if he needs time by himself, we should just let him be," Alex states, causing Erik to give him a funny look.

"Havok is correct. Let the boy sulk. Men need to be given a breather once in a while."

"Uhm, I'm the only female here, and I'm not really as worried about him as you all seem to be," Raven retorts.

"That doesn't come off as a good thing, Raven," Alex replies.

"Well, what would you know?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I know he's in good hands. Charles is the only one I would trust my own mental welfare to."

"I agree," Hank says.

And then, suddenly, they hear a bright chuckle from the doorway and they all turn to see none other than the two aforementioned Mutants.

"I hope you guys aren't quibbling about me in my absence," Sean says, walking over to Jim and grabbing a piece of popcorn before popping it into his mouth and munching on it noisily, "but don't stop now. It's getting to the good part. And snacks have already been provided." He takes the bowl from Jim's hands and sits down beside him, throwing another piece of popcorn into the air and catching it in his mouth. He smiles sincerely. "I mean it, continue."

"Uhm, Sean, are you – is everything alright?" Alex ventures to ask.

"Well, as good as can be, all things considered."

"But that's not very good, is it?" Raven queries.

"Mmm.. nope, not the really."

"D'you wanna' talk about it?" Raven sounds hopeful, like she just wants to hear about someone else's shitty life so she knows she's not in it alone.

"There isn't much to talk about, Rae. But thanks for asking. Really, I just need you guys to go on with your day-to-day shit. I'm not the kind of person who talks this kind of stuff out."

"Alright. Just let us know if you want to talk about anything, Seanie," she replies.

"Yeah, dude, if you need anything, let us know. I mean, I'm not gonna' play your slave or anything, but you catch my drift," Alex adds.

Sean smirks. "Pff, well if you're not going to play my slave, you aren't of much use to me at all."

Alex stands up and flicks Sean's forehead. "Don't be a brat, you attention whore."

"A brat?! Who's the most brattiest person in this household, Havok?!"

"He's right," Raven and Charles say at the same time, causing Alex to puff out his cheeks and catch the copperhead in a headlock. "Take it back," he orders.

"Neverrr!"

Hank laughs lightly. And here he was, thinking karma was out to get him.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: The part you've all probably been waiting for ;)

* * *

**Chapter 6**

* * *

Alex is lazing around in the fresh green grass, enjoying life and all the scents around him, when suddenly, out of the blue, he feels someone grab the collar of his T-shirt and pull him roughly onto his feet.

"What the hell?"

"I have just decided what your punishment for stealing the liquor will be," Erik states.

"Seriously, dude? That was like five days ago. Let it go."

"First of all, you'll refrain from speaking to me in such a disrespectful manner. I am not 'dude' and you most certainly do not have the permission to tell me to 'let it go'."

Alex just stares at him like he can't believe the words that are coming out of Erik's mouth.

"Now you'll nod and say, "Of course, sir."

"As if," he snarls. Erik isn't the bloody boss of him.

"Very well." Erik sighs and walks away, and for a second Alex thinks that though it is a strange way to win, win he did. He actually won an argument with Erik bloody fucking Lensherr and lived to tell the tale!

But then he suddenly feels himself being pulled along by the watch on his wrist as though he is a dog on a leash and he tries in vain to undo the clasp, which for some reason won't open to his touch anymore.

"You may cease your fruitless struggling, Summers. You can either use your own legs to follow me up into the weight room, or you can be pulled along."

Alex chooses to ignore the man and continues tugging on the watch with renewed vigour. He'd rather chew his own arm off than follow Magneto's orders!

Erik sighs again and Alex feels himself being lifted up into the air by the clasp on his belt. "Oh for the love of-" but before he can finish his complaint, he's being flung into the weight room and he hears the lock on the door clicking shut as he turns to see Erik walking over to him with his arms folded across his chest.

"You may think that I'm just here to join the pity-party, Summers, but I do recall being an instructor in this mansion, not to mention being the one who got you out of prison together with Charles. You may not like me, and believe me when I say that I really couldn't care less if you do, but you emwill/em respect me and my authority. Is that clear?"

Alex suddenly sees in Erik what the others see in him, and he doesn't like it one bit. He used to just see an agressive asshole who liked to have things done his way, but now he sees someone with the potential power to actually snap him in two if he doesn't not only agree with the man, but also respectfully. And he can't just accept this at the drop of a hat. He can't. Respect has to be earned.

"I said: is. that. clear?" Erik reiterates, and for the lack of a better response, Alex hums low in the back of his throat.

"Yeah that's the wrong answer," Erik says then, and takes a seat on one of the chest-press benches and hoists the teen stomach-down over his lap.

"What the hell are you _doing_?!" Alex hisses, not taking too kindly at all to being manhandled this way.

"I'm giving you the spanking you soundly deserve." And with no less warning than that, he effectively hits a smarting strike on the teen Mutant's bottom, earning a hiss from the younger male.

"What the fuck?! Let me up right now!"

"Struggling is futile, Summers. I wonder how many times I'll have to repeat that before it finally sinks in." With those words, he adds another two sharp smacks.

"Dude, knock it the fuck off! Do you have any idea which ERA it is?!"

"I don't think being disrespectful to me is aiding you in this situation. Actually, I can't think of any situation in which it would."

"Ow! Ah! Stop it! Seriously, stop touching my ass you fag!"

But the metal-bending Mutant simply laughs and continues peppering the jean-clad buttocks with ear-ringing slaps. Alex decides to just suck it up and handle it like a man in front of Erik so he can run off and tattle on him to Charles like a boy afterwards.

"If you think being quiet is going to make me stop, you're mistaken."

Alex' face turns red and he replies, aggravatedly, "Well what do you want then?!"

"Ah, the idiocy I'm faced with daily. You're lucky you're blond, kid, because chicks certainly won't fall for your intelligence."

"Don't call me an idiot you emotionally unstable psychopath!"

Erik just chuckles and lights into the seat of the boy's jeans with renewed vigour. "Well, in case you're still interested, I want an apology out of you, Summers. I want an honest excuse as to why you decided to steal the liquor and share it with someone else so that he could take the fall with you."

"I-OW!-I didn't make Sean dri-FUCK-drink it with me! It was his own ch-CHOICE!"

"Watch your language, boy. And even if that were the case, you know very well that that boy has tastebuds developed solely for illegal substances."

"Liquor isn't illegal," he quips, if just for the sake of quipping.

"It is for a minor. Which both of you are. But we're able to look past that. This, dear fellow, is about the fact that you took it without asking."

Erik starts on his thighs, and he feels his resolve quickly crumbling. "Agh! Mn! Okay, okay, I'm sorry I took it without asking!"

"Now we're getting somewhere!" Erik replies at the same volume as Alex's shouts of pain as he continues smacking with gusto. Alex is certain that the stupid old coot is getting a ride out of his pain and decides right then and there not to make another sound.

But Erik is not about to let him off that easily. Still, the moment he doesn't hear himself shouting or cursing, he realizes what a shameful position he's in and feels the blood rushing to his face, probably all the way up to his neck and ears, too.

It's not even slightly comparable to the heat that flushes his cheeks the moment Erik pulls his jeans down, though. But the moment he reaches back to pull them back up again, the man has his hand pinned to the small of his back as his other hand makes short work of the cotton-clad buttocks before him.

'He's sick,' Alex thinks, 'That's what's wrong with him. He's just a sick old fart that gets off on spanking teenagers and is probably going to jerk off to this later. I just have to stay calm. Just stay calm and get through this, and later I can go tell the prof what a sick bastard Magneto is.'

With that thought, though, the tears lubricate his eyes and are about to flow down his cheeks. 'Sick bastard,' his mind keeps repeating, and he's reminded of his father and the plane crash and how he'd let go of his little brother's hand. 'What kind of sick bastard lets go of their own brother?'

After five more sharp smacks, he can't stop the sobs from wracking his frame as he thinks, 'I shouldn't have let go of you, Scottie. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.'

Erik gives him five more before stopping and placing a tentative hand on the back of his neck. He snarls and throws it off, though, getting up and quickly pulling his jeans back up, ignoring the flaming sting in his backside and exiting the room without a backwards glance. He doesn't really care who he passes in the hallway up to his room, all that matters is that he gets there and that he is able to cry out his hurt by himself.

The moment his bedroom door shuts behind him, though, it flies back open and he hears the tirannical Erik demand, "What the hell was that?! Do you have _any_ sense of what is proper and polite or do I seriously have to knock it into that thick head of yours?"

But Alex really isn't in the mood for this. He grabs the pillow off his bed and sits down with it in front of him, pressed tightly against his chest. "Please go away, Erik." He realizes how small and scared he sounds, but in all honesty it just might play on the man's emotions and make him leave him alone.

He's delighted to hear silence from the man, which means that he probably did play on his emotions, but instead of leaving, he steps a little closer. "Summers?" he asks, sounding mildly worried and slighly aggravated as though he suspects this to be a scheme.

Alex presses his face against the pillow and repeats tiredly, "Please just go."

"Are you embarrassed?"_ This man has no idea how subtlety works at all_, Alex thinks, sighing into the pillow and replying, "Yes. I'm embarrassed. Now please leave me alone." All this talking is interfering with his self-pitying.

Erik is really not in the mood to listen to him today, apparently, because he sits himself down on the bed in front of him and places a tentative hand on his shoulder. "You acted like a child so I treated you like a child."

"Yes, you're extremely justified in your actions, I was wrong, I was being an idiot, please leave me alone."

Erik frowns. "You know, you could sound just a little contrite."

Angry now, Alex throws the pillow away and stands up, shouting, "I asked you like five times to go away! Can't you see that I'm not in the mood to talk to you right now?! You know what, I don't think I'll ever be in the mood to talk to you, you sick fuck! All you-" but before he can continue, he's being pulled over Erik's lap again and he immediately fights it this time, screaming, "I swear if you don't let me go RIGHT NOW I will blast you into oblivion!"

"Don't even try it, Summers."

"Or _what_, Lensherr?"

"Or I will have to ask Charles for help mentally and you can rest assured that this will not remain between us."

"Are you threatening me with my dignity?"

"As a matter of fact, I am."

"Well since you've already touched me inappropriately, I don't think I've got much to lose."

"Please. Inappropriately. Tch, kids these days know nothing of discipline."

"Are you kidding me?! I think we know way more about discipline than people from your generation! As a matter of fact – ugh, no, I won't talk to you like you've the decency to listen when you insist on treating me this way."

"That is fine with me." And with that, Erik gives him fifteen harsh swats before letting him up again, secretly thankful that the young Summers had somehow forgotten through their little dialogue what he had threatened Erik with.

"Great. I hope you feel much better about yourself, now."

"That is _not_ the kind of tone you want to strike with me right now, boy."

"Or _what_? You'll drag me over your lap again? I'm telling you, dude, you can try and try to get me to respect you by using such a childish manner of discipline, but it's not gonna' work."

"Really? And why is that?" Erik asks, as if solely to amuse himself.

"Because respect has got to be earned."

"Oh, I believe a good spanking earns enough respect from an errant, misbehaving child."

"You're a fool for seeing me as a child."

"And you're a fool for thinking you could talk to me this way. I'm your superior, boy, so start acting like I am or I will seriously hurt you."

"And there you go, threatening to hurt me if I don't treat you like you're better than me! Do you think that's what true leadership quality is, Erik? 'Cause this might be news to you, so I'll share it – it's not! The only leader we have around here is _Charles_, and he's our leader precisely because he values each and every one of us as his equals!"

"You misunderstood my meaning."

"No, I think I understood you well and truly."

"You thought I meant superior by rank. I meant superior by age. You are still a minor, Summers, and as long as you remain a minor in this household, I will have the power to demand respect from you."

"You're falling back on the same blanks you drew at the beginning of this discussion, dude. I will not respect you simply because you're older than me."

"Well you'd better get over that quickly or your rear will bear the consequences."

"Again with the spanking ! What are you, a hundred ?! People don't do that anymore, man, and especially not to other people's kids! It's inappropriate and wrong and not to mention disgusting."

"I will give you one more warning not to insult me, boy."

Oh, one more chance, huh? And then what?

"Fuckface."

That felt good. Better than good, even, glorious. It felt fucking _righteous_. What now, huh? Douchedick.

Erik stands up purposefully, and Alex does not back down.

"You have tried my patience again and again," Erik states, grabbing the teen's forearm, "and I've had enough. I see those previous swats haven't helped and I have been too mild on you. Perhaps a different method would be a better incentive to get you to start behaving better."

Alex is about to charge his powers at Erik when he suddenly realizes that he can't. Not that he is physically incapable, but he just _can't_. Even hating the man with a vengeance, he can't just blast the the dude's legs off! This isn't some kind of horrible burn that he can give him by nicking him just-so, this is an actual _blast_ that he's talking about. It doesn't matter that Erik is terrific at being an asshole and a master at the art of shitting out of his neck, he's still a human being and he can't just go killing people for being pricks.

"Let me go right fucking now!"

"I don't think so, Summers. You deserve a longer trip over my knee this time – one that you won't forget."

Before he can do anything about it, Erik has his hands tied together behind his back by his own watch and Erik's and he feels Erik's leg close over both of his own to keep him from trying to kick his way out of this position. And then the worst humiliation is brought upon him when the fuckhead pulls both his jeans and his underwear down and taps a suddenly ram-rod-straight half-leather half-metal belt against an unprotected thigh.

"You'll regret this," Alex finds the courage to grind out before the first 'WHACK' falls across his poor, already-abused cheeks and he only just manages to hold back his cry of outrage. After nineteen more of these extremely painful smacks, he can feel the tears creeping up on him but he doesn't know a single manner in which he could dispel them that would not be him whiping them away inconspicuously on Erik's pants.

He doesn't know how long it continued, or how long he tried to hold his breath and stop crying, when Erik finally stops and leaves him lying shamefaced across his lap, still shuddering and trying fruitlessly to stop the tears from pouring down his cheeks.

A strong hand, less tentative than earlier, rests on the back of his neck before running up and down his back, soothing out the tension. "Get off," Alex snarls, and tries to stand up again, but Erik won't budge. He does pull up his briefs and jeans, though, and despite the pain the teen has to admit that he feels better now that his ass is covered. Erik continues rubbing the tension out of his shoulders until the shivers have completely subsided, and then he stands him up straight to get him to look at him.

Alex stays where Erik has positioned him, whiping his cheeks dry with his sleeves before trying his best to look composed and chill as he looks back at the fiercely strict set of eyes of his 'mentor'.

"I don't want to have to do that again." Erik's tone of voice, despite the gravelly undertone it always carries, is calm and sincere, which is probably the only reason why Alex nods before sniffling and whiping his nose quickly with his sleeve.

Erik sighs and retrieves a paper tissue from his pocket before handing it to the distraught teen in front of him. When Alex shoves the crumpled up wad into the pocket of his jeans, the older male stands up and places his hand on top of the boy's head, looking deeply into his eyes and stating seriously, "I expect respect and obedience from you, Havok. Nothing else. I am not asking you to lick my boots or kiss my ass. I am not making you do anything that would damage your health. Do you understand this?"

In too much pain to growl at the man, Alex nods and croaks, "Yes."

"Good lad." Erik draws him into a quick, firm hug, giving him a quick pat on the back before releasing him. "You can return to your previous activities, now."

The boy does so without further goading, heading for the door without a glance behind. If there's anything he's learned from this experience, it's to avoid pissing Erik off. Not because of the blazing butt that might follow as a consequence, but the possibility that the man may do something as absurd as rub his back or hug him.

And if there's one thing he wants to avoid from here on out, it's that Erik fucking Lensherr might hug him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

When Erik tells him what he did, Charles is halfway through his morning cup of tea and has been graced with Erik's most inopportune timing as he is spraying the poor herbal water across the table the moment the words leave the man's mouth.

"You did _what_?" Charles asks, most affronted. He would prefer if Erik's rough hands were not causing physical pain to the young, soft-skinned children.

"It was the only way to get him to see reason."

"Look, Erik, while I'm not opposed to the idea of corporal discipline when things get out of hand, we probably should have discussed this with the children, beforehand. Alex must be really confused and upset right now."

"Please, Charles. At the most, he's nursing a pained backside."

"I don't know, Erik. Perhaps you should go talk to him."

"I have a better idea, Charles. How about you go have 'a word' with Sean?"

Charles is surprised by the air-quotes Erik uses, not only because it's _Erik_ but because he knows precisely what he means by them.

"No. I can't do that to him. Not in his current state."

Erik sighs. "Of course you would spare him the rod after such an offense."

"Excuse me?!" Charles utters, flabbergasted, "I'm not sparing him anything! And I do not consider sneaking alcohol up to his room to share with a friend such an offense."

"Are you even listening to yourself, Charles? Everything you just said sounds like the complete opposite of what you would say under normal circumstances."

"Well, we're not under normal circumstances. The boy just lost his _mother_. The last thing he needs is to lose another parental figure."

"If you really consider yourself a parental figure, you would realize that this punishment is the epitome of parental."

"So you consider yourself a father-figure for Alex, then?" Charles asks, scoffing. He can't see Erik considering himself a father-figure for anyone, despite the way everyone sees him. Or perhaps just because of the way everyone sees him – just to spite them and their crazy notions that he would serve as a very good father to the Mutants in the mansion. Of course only himself, Raven and Moira have shared their opinions on this matter.

"I do."

Well that just stole the cake of the evening. And he thought that he was shocked by what Erik had done to Alex. The fact that Erik considered himself a father-figure for the boy out-did that surprise by far.

"And I think Sean could use a father-figure in his life that won't abandon him, Charles."

The shorter male clears his throat and turns away from the other, walking over to the window to peer outside at the dark landscape surrounding the mansion. "I don't know, Erik... I've only ever spanked Raven, and that was after –... after something incredibly stupid and life-endangering. What Sean did was-"

"- Likewise life-endangering," Erik cuts in, "And disrespectful and against the rules of common sense. He's underaged. He's not supposed to be drinking liquor at odd hours of the night. And he should have had the common sense to tell Alex to bring the bottle back down, or to at least not include him."

"Erik, they're boys. Let them have their -" but he cuts himself off, there, sighing. "Oh who am I kidding?" He presses the heel of his palm against his forehead, trying fruitlessly to get rid of his sudden headache. "You're right, my friend, as you often are."

Erik doesn't seem to take any glory out of his win. Instead, he crosses his arms and asks, "Do you want me to do it?"

Charles shakes his head. "No. Thank you for the offer, but I suppose it's best to just get it over with. If not, I'll keep relying on you to punish the kids whenever they do something wrong. And we most certainly can not have that. I shudder to think what emotional damage they'll have in a couple of years if you continue being the sole bogeyman."

Erik huffs out a chuckle. "Get to it, then, Labrat. Before I get my claws on your poor, frail children."

Charles nods and exits the room, feeling burdened beyond reason.

* * *

When he finds Sean sitting at his desk in his room, calmly going over his homework assignment, he feels his resolve weaken. The young Mutant is obediently making his homework like a good child would – what cause could he have to punish him?

But then he enters fully, and he inhales, and he feels a vein pulse in his temple like an angry burn that keeps reminding him of its presence.

"Sean."

The boy jolts, turning to look at him like a deer caught in headlights. The boy's enlargened pupils make him look more like a baby deer than anything, but neither the doe eyes nor his remorseful expression can make up for the stench of pot. Or the two open windows.

"Have you been smoking weed in here?"

He catches fragments of panicked thoughts racing across the forefront of Sean's mind; _ 'Tell him it's a skunk – idiot move – shit shit shit – he knows – fuck – opinion of me – such an idiot– shit_, and feels his resolve quickly strengthening again.

"Sean?" he presses, threateningly.

"Just- just the one joint."

"_Just the one_?!" Charles reiterates incredulously. "Oh, well, in that case, good job on your restraint, lad."

Sean looks down, obviously ashamed of himself, but Charles isn't about to leave it at that. Sure, he had been young once, too (not that long ago, come to think of it,) but he had never done drugs alone in his room for no apparent reason. The only time he'd had a drag of a joint had been at a party, and he'd been a hammered and curious sixteen-year-old. This sixteen-year-old, on the other hand, was just sitting in his room, making his _homework_.

"I was having doubts about punishing you for drinking liquor in the middle of the night, but drugs, Sean?! That just takes the cake."

Sean stands up, looking suddenly defensive. "What's the big deal? I've been doing drugs ever since I was thirteen. Meanwhile, I've never been to prison like Alex."

"What's the_ big deal_?!" Charles repeats, feeling anger build up in his body at the mention of the age at which the boy started doing drugs. Through clenched teeth, he hisses, "Pull down your trousers, Sean," before sitting down on the teen's bed and waiting impatiently for the boy to comply.

Sean just stares at him disbelievingly. Or perhaps not really fully comprehending what exactly is going on. Charles takes a deep breath and states with pinched-shut eyes, "Now, Sean. You do not want to test my patience," as he rubs his temples wearily.

He can hear the concerningly eerie stillness of the boy's mind and watches as Sean balls his hands up into fists before stating calmly, "This is not going to happen."

Charles can feel the corners of his mouth lift up slightly as he answers, "I'm afraid it is, my boy. Now do as I tell you or suffer the consequences."

"You're unbelievable," Sean says, but without the animosity one would expect. Charles doesn't sense any anger or hostility, just sincere disbelief. Sean seems to be, more than anything, hurt and confused. It pains the older Mutant to have to do this, but he knows he can't let the boy get away with his misbehavior.

"You're not seriously telling me you're going to _spank_ me for smoking grass? I mean, if you want to take it all away, I get it. If you want to ground me until I'm eighteen, I get it. But you're not seriously thinking of treating me like a two-year-old. You can't be."

"I would not presume to be in my head if I were you, Sean. Now, take down your trousers or I will do it for you."

But Sean is nothing if not protective – in this case, of his ego. Without thought, the boy heads for the door and exits the room without a glance behind, heading for the stairs without a second to spare for thoughts of consequences.

Charles doesn't waste another minute on freezing the boy in place, allowing him to remain conscious to realize what exactly is going on as Charles tugs his uncomprehensive but obedient body along, marches it back up to its room, shuts the door calmly and sets about tugging the boy's trousers down without preamble before pulling him over his lap.

He decides not to unfreeze the boy out of sympathy, knowing that if he did, Sean would feel inclined to struggle out of his hold no matter what. So he starts the punishment with as much certainty as he can muster, knowing full well what Sean must think of him right now. He unfreezes the control he has on the younger male's mouth to allow him to utter any jarring terms he can come up with, but Sean just grits his teeth and tries to control the little grunts of pain that escape his lips.

"You know better than to go along with Alex and drink liquor in the middle of the night for no reason but to play the bad boy, Sean," Charles states, hardening his heart against the muffled sounds of pain as he strengthens the impact of the blows.

"You- you told me you un-understood," Sean manages to rasp out.

"And I realized my mistake the moment Erik pointed it out to me. I should not have been soft on you in light of recent events."

"Fuckin' Erik," Sean grunts when Charles' hand swats the sensitive undercurve of his behind.

"Watch your mouth," Charles reprimands, giving him a particularly hard slap. Sean's mouth opens to cry out in pain, but only a light gust of air escapes.

Stopping for a moment, the older Mutant presses a gentle hand against the back of the boy's neck. "It's alright to cry out, Sean. When I said 'watch your mouth' I meant what you say." Somehow, he gets the feeling the boy should know this and he's merely playing the victim by intentionally misunderstanding.

"Mutation," Sean mutters, though, making him regret his assumptions instantly. Of course the boy would be afraid that he would break the windows or something.

"I have the fullest confidence in your abilities, Sean. And even if you do slip up, don't think for a second that a broken window or two would anger me."

Sean nods, but when Charles picks up the punishment, no more than grunts and groans are uttered.

After fourty swats have been handed out - pun quite intended - he pulls the boy's trousers back up, unfreezes him, and cradles the lanky teenager in his lap.  
"Sshh, it's alright, lad. It's over, now," he mutters, running his hand up and down the younger's back. When most of Sean's tears have been shed, the boy seems to care about his ego again and instantly struggles out of Charles' grip.

"Stay put," Charles commands, and the teenage Mutant knows better than to disobey. Covering his flushed face with his hands, the boy tries to stifle his sobs, but Charles can see the tears dripping from his cupped hands to his lap and rests his hand on the boy's head, threading his fingers through the copper-colored strands soothingly.  
When Sean inhales wetly, Charles can feel his heart breaking and presses the boy to his chest, allowing him to soak his neck with tears. "Ssshhh, breathe. Breathe, my boy."

"I'm sorry," Sean sobs, "Didn't – didn't mean to do bad."

Before Charles can do anything about it, he's being overwhelmed by and pulled into a sudden memory.

.

_"I'm sorry, daddy, please don't be mad!" The wall is suddenly extremely close to his face._

_"You stupid boy! You could have made us all go deaf!" He can hear his father tugging his belt off. _  
_"I'm sorry, please don't!" The tears are obscuring his vision, but he knows better than to let them fall. _  
_"Pathetic little thing. It's a pity you always have to be so bad." _  
_"I'm sorry, daddy, I didn't mean to do bad!" _  
_"You never mean to, Sean. It's just you. You're just a bad kid. You were the moment you were born." A painful feeling spreads through his chest. _  
_"...Oh." _  
_And then, hard leather snaps crack white-hot pain across his back and he bites his fist to contain his cries._

.  
.

"No, stop!" Sean cries out. "Please stop!"  
Charles shakes his head a little to clear it. "I'm sorry, Sean. You were projecting and I must have gotten you sucked into it, as well."  
"I – I just, just really didn't want you to see that, is all."  
Bothered by this fact, Charles nonetheless covers it up and rubs the tension out of the boy's neck. "It's alright, it's gone now."

The two sit there in silence for a while, until the professor whispers, "I won't ever let that happen to you again, Sean. You have my word."

He catches the fleeting thought of, '_Won't ever let it happen to myself_,' and can't help a proud little smile.

"Do you feel a little better now?" Charles asks once Sean can breathe easily without having to bite back a sob.

The boy gives him an incredulous look. "You just _spanked_ me. I haven't been spanked since I was four."

Charles chuckles lightly. "Yes I suppose it was a silly question, wasn't it?"

"Prof, you won't – you won't be making a habit out of this, will you?"

"I don't know, Sean, will you be making a habit out of smoking pot and drinking liquor at odd hours of the night?"

"But-"

"No excuses, Sean."

"You won't even let me explain," the boy grouses.

Charles sighs. "There shouldn't have to be an explanation for this. Any explanation you have will come off as an excuse. What explanation _could_ you have for drinking or smoking weed?"

"I had a rough childhood?"

The joking way in which Sean says it makes Charles realize that he's down-playing a whole lot of family issues.

"Look, Sean, I'm not going to tell you that I'll be using corporal punishment whenever one of you crosses the line, but when I believe it to be the best form of discipline, you can rest assured that I will not be persuaded by pleas or attitude. I'm backing Erik up on this decision and I hope you can learn to accept it."

"But you're not... you know."

"Please do enlighten me."

"You're not my father. You're my professor. It just- this doesn't seem right."

"Oh Sean, I can see how you would think that way. But believe it or not, back when I was in school, there were plenty of old-fashioned teachers who would still use corporal punishment, especially on their favourite students."

He hopes Sean understands the affection he's hinting at, but by the pale look of horror on the boy's face, he can tell the boy has misunderstood the gist of the tale.  
He can also tell by the way the boy is tensing up that he's becoming more and more uncomfortable with his position and the entire situation. He wants to let the teen run off to his room to calmly go over things in his head and set them straight, but he needs to know something before he does.

"It's not that I don't think you're a great guy, professor, 'cause I really do – don't get me wrong. I mean, you invited all of us into your home without needing our background info or anything, and you let us live here for free. But..."

"But?" Charles presses.

"I'm not sure what part I'm playing, here. Not anymore, at least."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I used to think that we were just your students. But now that you reacted so heavily to the drinking and all... I mean, any other teacher I know would have just taken it away. Or probably sent me off to live on my own, again. But you, you did this- this completely out-of-place thing that just confuses me."

"Sean, I want you to know something."

The boy's seagreen eyes shoot up curiously.

Charles takes a deep breath and continues, "I consider all of you more than just my students. To me, you're more like my children. And I only found out today, after speaking with Erik, what that entails. We both consider you ours."

"Really?" Hope – awe – uncertainty.

"Really." Promise – determination – love.

He squeezes the boy's arm affectionately and adds, "So you really must watch your conduct from now on, young man. No man from the house of Xavier shall be seen doing monkey business."

Sean snorts. He looks like he's about to say something, but then he seemingly decides against it and smiles lightly before standing up. "Thanks prof. For what you said. And if the- the spanking was really what was needed before you could say it, then thanks, I suppose, for, you know..."

"Spanking you," Charles finishes with a smirk.

"Awh hell I'm not doing this." And with those words, the red-headed Mutant teenager speeds out of the room; with his new guardian watching over him fondly.

"Oh Charles," he sighs to himself, "what have you gotten yourself into, old dog?"

* * *

A/N: Thank you all for your kind reviews! I really appreciate it! :D  
PS: **ScorpioCat**, I love Sean so much, too! He's just a precious little thing that didn't get enough screentime xD Thank you for taking the time to leave such a nice review :) Also, I don't think I'm going to add Storm or Jean or anyone like that because I just have no idea how to write them. I figure Ororo could be ok to write because because she would be really young, but I feel kind of weird writing Jean. But I _might_. You know what? It would probably work out really well if Jean were in the story! I just have to figure out how to write about a young Jean. Or perhaps just add her later later and just let her be a teenager. Hm.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 **

* * *

Noah doesn't know if he's entirely comfortable with the stark-naked blue-skinned (and scaled) woman sitting at the breakfast table calmly sipping coffee, but from the way everybody simply sits down without further comment (well, aside from the professor, who drapes a blanket he seems to carry around precisely for these occasions over her) he takes it this is a normal situation in this household. And so he doesn't pay it any more attention and instead chews his cheerios with as much gusto as anyone who detests cheerios could.

But what he _can't_ ignore, is the way Alex and Sean both seem to be shifting in their seats, looking for a more comfortable position for their posteriors. If he didn't know better, he'd think the two were, well, a little rowdy last night, but from the knowing look the professor and the metal-bender share, he rethinks his assumption and concludes that this is a situation he bloody well _isn't_ comfortable with.

"Jim? Are you alright?" The scientist, Hank, asks, and he looks up with a flushed face and realizes that he'd probably been gaping at everyone with his mouth open and full of cereal. He tends to do that when his thoughts take him away.

"Huh? Uh, yeah. Sorry. Didn't mean to- y'know." He wouldn't say he'd worried anyone, per se.

Hank doesn't respond, and for some reason, that makes the situation that much more awkward. This kind of stuff always seems to happen to him. A calm, smoothly-flowing morning could turn awkward and stuffy in the blink of an eye.

"Slow morning for all of us," Erik says, and it doesn't sound right coming from an intelligent and strong-looking man like him. Either way, he thinks that the fact that he tries to smooth over his embarrassing hiccup speaks of kindness and he thinks he might have misjudged Erik.

"Especially you, huh, labrat?" Erik asks, snorting at the tired look on the professor's face as he calmly sips his tea with half-shut eyes and nevermind what he thought – Erik really is the kind of person you have to watch out for. One moment he's nice, the next he's teasing and Noah already knows what comes after that. He knows that once Charles responds in a manner Erik might not enjoy, he'll blow up in his face and start chucking dishes at people.

But the professor just covers his mouth as he yawns before going back to his tea and Erik is covering a slice of toast with some sort of marmalade so perhaps he was wrong.

"Hank, be a dear and pour me some coffee, please?" Raven requests, popping a grape into her mouth .

Noah looks over at the young man who'd been the one to introduce him to this strange household and is surprised to see Hank actually _get up_ and cater to this half-woman half-alien.

And just when he thinks he's figured out the absurdity of this family's quirks, he hears a voice in his head requesting politely, /_Please don't refer to my sister as an alien, Jim./_

_What the shitting cockwaffle!_

_/Mind your language, please./_

He blinks. _Uh – professor?_

_/Yes, Jim?/_

"You're a psychic?" he asks out-loud, because, for goodness sakes, this is just too weird. Do they all know about this? Apparently they do, because everyone seated at the table simply turns to look at him ever-so-calmly, even though he could swear a bird flying somewhere around the mansion just smashed against one of the windows in astonishment.

"Actually, I'm a telepath."

"Uhh okay, that's, uhm, cool." _How did I wind up here, again?_

"But that doesn't mean I go reading people's minds just for the fun of it." _/Your thoughts were just extremely loud./_ he sends his way as he smiles at him.

"Does that-"_ How does this even work? Do I just think it and he hears it or do I send a signal or something like that?_

_/No, that's alright, he hears it just fine so long as you want me to,/_ Charles says into his head, and for some reason it doesn't feel as warm as the man's voice is. It feels more like an intrusion than anything.

_ Does that mean you know everything about me?_ He ventures to ask, and he wonders briefly if Charles can hear the process of his brain as he came up with the words to string into a coherent sentence.

_/Well, actually, that's mostly a faint buzzing in the background, since it's not what you want me to hear. And to answer your question; no, I do not. I have the ability to do so, to dig through your memories and find everything out about you that I wish, but I have higher principles than that. I respect your boundaries and will not push my way into your head unless I believe it's absolutely necessary./_

_And when do you find it absolutely necessary?_

_/Don't worry, Jim. I doubt you'll ever find yourself in such a position./_

With that, the conversation ends, and Noah looks down at his now-soggy cornflakes. He takes a moment to process the fact that one of his professors can read minds and can actually sense it when you're not paying attention in class, is not even the tip of the iceberg of this man's abilities. He could actually dig through his past if he wanted to, he could probably even replace his thoughts with stupid things like 'red is blue' or 'I am lame'. He could probably make him believe he's a female frog for the rest of his life!

Deciding he does not like that possibility at all, he shoves the cereal into his mouth without pausing to chew between each spoonful, coming up with ways to tell them that he's very sorry but he just realized that he can't stay in this school because one of the teachers has the ability to rape his mind and stuff thoughts into his head without his knowledge.

Perhaps he could fake an anneurism? Oh wait, the professor would probably realize that it's fake.

Perhaps he could tell them that his great aunt Maggie needed him because he was the only family she had left and she had just broken her hip and needed someone to help around the house? Or would Charles realize this, too?

Was Charles listening in on his thoughts at this exact moment?

_/I'm sorry, but as I said earlier, your thoughts are extremely loud./_

He stands up in a flash, wielding a butter knife because he's stupid like that and he thinks that a butterknife will do anything to stop a band of powerful Mutants – one of whom controls metal.

_/Jim, I understand what you're feeling. Trust me, you're not the first person to be scared of my Mutation. And I completely understand if you are uncomfortable with the idea of sharing the same roof with me. I wish you didn't have to be so afraid. I truly do. But if this truly is the way you feel, I will not stop you from going. Nobody here will. Only you can decide if you wish to stay or go./_

"Well, that's good, because I don't believe your bullshit. How do I even know if you aren't manipulating all of these people into staying here? Are they even really here, or is it just a visual you planted in my head, am I just hallucinating? No, don't bother answering, I can't be sure if you're lying or not."

"What the fuck?" Sean retorts, utterly confused.

"What the hell is this kid talking about?" Alex adds.

"You guys are so dumb. Obviously, he's scared of Charles' ability."

"Scared?" Sean reiterates.

"Stop talking!" Noah screams, pressing the heel of his palm to his temple. "You might as well stop now, Xavier, because I don't believe for a second that you're not controlling their minds at this exact moment!"

"I would not," Charles replies, "because I respect them too much. And also, it would be pretty boring to live a life controlling other people's thoughts. I imagine the glory of it would wear off pretty quickly."

"And how do I know to believe you?!"

"Well, the fact that you can ask such a question should serve as enough proof, I would think."

"And what if that's just a trick? What if you made me have the ability to think it through? What if this is all just a test, and I'm the only person here who can actually speak his mind?"

He sees Sean gaze at the professor with frightened eyes, and for a moment he thinks that it might be a part of the man's plan, but then he sees the utter sorrow enter Xavier's eyes at the look of bewilderment on one of his charges' faces, and he rethinks his earlier assumption.

"You wouldn't really do that, would you, prof?" Alex asks.

"Of course not, Alex," Raven answers for him, "This kid is just paranoid. And if he wants to leave on the grounds of some stupid fear that Charles is controlling our minds, then let him. There's no need to have him stick around if all he's gonna' do every single day is panic over mediocre things like the possibility that the only reason he wants to drink orange juice that morning is because Charles is in his mind telling him to."

Alex lets out an airy chuckle. "Yeah. You're right. Of course."

Noah still doesn't understand why these people can't have any doubts about Charles' ability, but then again, perhaps they're just under his control.

"Would you allow me to push a thought into your mind to prove to you that I'm not lying? This way, you could feel the difference."

"No way! And besides, what if the 'difference' is just your doing? If you can control thoughts, I'm sure you can control my thought of 'oh, wow this is indeed different'."

"Well then, how about the fact that I haven't changed your opinion of me? You're still utterly terrified and you can still ask these questions. If I were controlling you, why would I make you feel like you couldn't trust me? Why would I bother having this conversation at all?"

He wants to shout that he isn't terrified at all, but he really is. _The possibility that my thoughts aren't my own... the possibility that I'm just a shell of a person, that only the mere essence of my being is me... I need some air. I need to get out. Why are they looking at me like that?! THEY'RE THE CRAZY ONES! Why don't they think this shit through?! Why are they all so okay with this?! This is nuts! I need to get out of here! I need to- I need some air. I need air. I need AIR!_

/_Breathe_./ He can hear it in his head, but his lungs don't seem to being coöperating.

"Breathe, Jim." The voice sounds much better when it's an actual physical thing-actual vibrations, actual _sound_. He can feel the man's warm hand on his cheek, and he can see blazing blue eyes radiating concern and fear, and he can feel it rolling off the man in waves, and it's suddenly clear to him that no, there is no way that the professor has actually been controlling his mind this entire time. Because, well, look at that cardigan. Nobody wearing a beige cardigan could mean harm. Or that floppy hair, obviously groomed nicely each and every morning- that couldn't possibly belong to a brain ninja.

"You need to breathe, Jim."

Oh, but he has been lying to these people the entire time. How could he get so angry and scared at the professor for keeping such a thing from him if he has been hiding who he was the whole time, himself?

And suddenly he's very, _very_ dizzy and incredibly, _immensely_ tired, and he remembers that he's not breathing and he really needs to breathe because he only just arrived here, he only just started rebuilding his life, and it would suck on so many levels if he couldn't even see it through.

And then there's a crack of hot pain blazing across his cheek and he draws a startled breath, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out.

The hand returns to his cheek to soothe out the sting, but oddly enough it was no more than a fleeting pain.

"That's it. Slowly, Jim."

"Noah," he gasps out.

"Huh?" he hears someone else utter, but he can make out the professor's face again and he sees a small smile curve the man's lips upward, accompanied by a warmth in the pools of sapphire light in his eyes.

"It's nice to meet you, Noah. I am professor Charles Xavier."

Tears cloud his vision and he thinks he's really found the place he wants to call his home. He so desperately wants it to be true.

_/You're not alone anymore, my boy./_

And that's the only confirmation he'll ever need to hear.

* * *

A/N: I decided it was time someone wrote about how effing creepy it must be to hear someone else's voice in your head and hear that 'it's all cool' and 'just chill this is totally normal'. I mean, I'd be shrieking and getting the heck out of there.

Plus, does anyone else see it coming? I mean, obviously _I_ do, I'm the writer.

No?

Come on.

It starts with J and it ends with ealousy.

I see a new baby boy of the mutie clan taking Sean's spot.

He he. ANGST.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

* * *

Hank has nice eyes, Raven thinks. Not nice in a colorful way, or in that I-can-see-right-through-you way. Just nice. Like a doe's eyes. They're gentle. They mean no harm.

Raven's eyes, on the other hand, are piercingly yellow and weird and _ugly_. She sees them reflected in the door's window – the door to Hank's lab – and shuts her eyes and turns away from the door, heading outside for some fresh air.

There's no way a nice, normal human like Hank (albeit one with large, mutated feet) could ever fall for a freak like her. With or without the finger-toes.

* * *

Sean's holding up pretty well, Raven thinks. So are the other boys, actually. The only one who doesn't seem to have everything together is her. She's the sore thumb of Team Mutant. None of them seem to notice how much trouble she's having with just being herself, and that seems to make everything a million times worse. Almost as if they won't see her sorrow for what is is because they feel like it's misplaced – like she doesn't have the right to dislike who she is.

It's frustrating, especially when you're being judged by people who have never had to wake up on the pavement, in the pouring rain, curled up into a tight ball and hoping nobody would notice your odd coloring beneath the old rags you're wearing. They haven't been made to look up at their parents from beneath a body of water, trying to fight off the arms trying to keep you there, trying to suffocate you.

She sees Sean toss a piece of popcorn into the air and catch it in his mouth and wonders if there's some kind of trick to it – if it should be so easy to act like you're happy when you should be sad.

* * *

She's walking down the hallway when she hears a crash, followed by a groan, followed by bickering voices.

She follows the sound to Ji- Noah's room, and spots four teenage Mutants bickering over whose fault it is that there is now a large puddle of blue paint on the shiny hardwood flooring.

She wants to sneer and demand to know what's so wrong with having a blue stain on the perfect cherrywood, but in truth she already knows that nobody wants an unneeded blue smear on the surface of something which _shouldn't be_ blue.

It's tragic how easily she can compare the color of her skin to the floor. It allows people to walk all over her, too. It has taken away any sense of self-worth she would have had without it, and it has allowed others to label her as a freak, as _below_ them.

But then Charles is standing beside her all of a sudden (most likely drawn by the commotion as well) and the most delightful sound comes chortling from his lips. Only her brother would laugh at such a situation.

"I kind of like it," Charles states. "How about you guys just paint the floor blue? You could choose a different color for the walls so it doesn't seem too overwhelming."

And any loss of justification for treating her brother as though he doesn't understand has just flooded back into her veins – her _blue _veins, which are pulsing beneath her _blue_ skin – and she realizes that it's just too overwhelming. There's just _too much_ blue; on the inside _and _out.

"Hey, if he gets to paint the floor blue, I wanna' paint mine yellow."

The mere idea of painting über-expensive wood floorboards a sickening yellow should be enough to make grandma Xavier roll over in the grave.

"I'm afraid that's out of the question, Alex," Charles replied, voice still laced with mirth. "But if you happened to spill some yellow paint on the floor, completely by accident of course, then I suppose we wouldn't have a choice."

Alex receives the hint and takes off to his own room with the yellow paint.

For a moment, Raven wonders if it would be possible to paint her skin permanently.

"You will do no such thing," Charles says pointedly, even though it's impossible, giving her a strong look that basically means 'I'm your older brother and you will listen to me whether you like it or not'.

She sighs and heads downstairs.

* * *

At four o'clock, she finds Erik and Alex in the kitchen, making smoothies. Alex is covered in yellow paint and Erik appears to have some on his back as well, though he's probably unaware of it. The two seem to be getting on well lately, even with Alex' blatant disapproval of most of Erik's methods. To be fair, though, the feeling seems to be mutual.

"Banana blueberry or banana strawberry? Or strawberry blueberry?" Alex asks when he spots her.

"Banana strawberry," she replies, because she doesn't want to put anything blue into her mouth.

"'Kay, coming up." She watches with horror as the teenage Mutant flicks a blueberry at Erik's head and tries to take cover before the pans come flying through the room, but when nothing happens for a total of five seconds, she comes out from underneath the table to find that though Alex' hair may be covered in sugar, no further damage has been done to his person. And perhaps the scariest part of all is that there is plenty of metal within Erik's reaching-distance, and he didn't even have to summon any metal at all. He could have whacked Alex up the head.

So why didn't he?

She accepts the glass Alex hands her and places two straws in it before walking back out again. She sips at the concoction, pondering whether things are becoming a little _too_ domestic around here.

When she hears Magneto snarl "Now you asked for it!" from the kitchen, she decides that there's no problem with domesticity.

* * *

She discovers Noah, the new kid, lying outside in the grass late at night and walks over to him. He doesn't seem to hear her coming, so she decides to scare the shit out of the kid. Morphing into Charles and making sure she changed her voice box as well, she says, "You should be in bed, mr. Barrons," because he never told them his real last name.

His eyes open and she's shocked to realize how blue they really are. She supposes she'd always known, but she hadn't really payed much attention to it.

"I'm sorry, professor, I'll head in straight away – I suppose I just wasn't really thinking of the time and all."

"Relax dude. I ain't tryin' ta' yank yo' chain or anythan."

"Uh... uhm... ...excuse me?"

"Y'heard me. S'alright, man, you's just chillin'."

"I don't – professor, are you drunk?"

She can't help it and starts laughing, instantly morphing back into her original form. For some reason, whenever she starts laughing, she loses grasp of her mutation.

"Huh? _Raven_?"

"You should have seen your face!"

"What the hell?!"

She wipes the tears from the corners of her eyes and sits down in the grass. After a while of getting no explanation from the girl whatsoever, Noah sits down beside her and asks, "What was that?"

"My mutation."

"That's pretty cool, you know. Even if you use it for messed up reasons. I'm sure you could do all kinds of sick stuff with that."

"Yeah. I can."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She sighs. "Well, that's not true. It's something."

He waits.

"It's just that I'm tired of having to cover up who I really am. But then, sometimes, I really can't help but hate the fact that this emis/em who I am. It's like trying to cover up the fact that you're into necrophilia or something."

"_What_?!"

"Yeah, I know. Nobody understands me."

"I think I know where you were headed with your explanation before you threw necrophilia into the jig. Look, Raven, you're beautiful. And I mean drop-dead-gorgeous. I think your natural form is stunning. That doesn't mean that whenever you transform into someone else that that person can't be equally as good-looking. It's just... You know. You've got a very pretty body. And your eyes are like, really intense, dude."

"Aw, I appreciate the fact that you avoided using any words that would make me feel like a sexual object," she says sarcastically.

"At your service."

"And I also appreciate the compliment, kid. I really do. It just doesn't feel like the truth. Not to me."

"What's so wrong with who you are?"

"See, people like you don't understand, because-"

"- No, I mean _what_. Seriously. Tell me about every part of your body that you think is unattractive."

"Well, for one, I'm _blue_."

"Sapphires are blue. The sky is blue. The ocean is blue. My sweater is blue. My freaking eyes are blue, and everybody keeps telling me what killer eyes I have. Blue is my favourite colour. I want to paint my walls blue because it always seems to give me a sense of belonging and calm. And because it's a pretty bad-ass tat colour."

She smiles. "Well then how about the fact that I'm all scaley?"

"You call these scales?" He runs a hand over them and pretends not to feel the roughness. "Oh my God they really are scales. These are effing _sweet_!"

"I'm like a fish."

"A freaking awesome fish!"

She snorts.

"What else do you find so horrifying?"

"My eyes."

"You're _kidding_ me. They're like cat eyes. You can't seriously be telling me you don't think they're bad-ass!"

"Fine. My hair then."

"The colour of fire?!"

"Yes; dark as your very own blood."

"Bad-ass," he chants.

She gets up. "I'm going to bed."

"Raven, wait!" Noah grabs a hold of her arm, and he doesn't flinch back at the chafing. For some reason, that means a lot to her. Even Charles had flinched back at first. Granted, he'd been ten at the time, but still.

"You don't have to keep trying to prove to yourself that you're beautiful so you accept who you are. That takes a lot of character."

She frowns. "Are you trying to tell me I don't have enough character to believe that I'm beautiful?!"

He lets go and backs up a little, shrugging. "I'm just saying that sometimes it's hard to keep telling yourself you're just as good as all the other white sheep when you're the black one."

"I'll have you know I'm fucking _sexy_, alright?! I'm hotter than your mother ever was! YOU could never get a girl like ME!" She hadn't known she had that much anger and hostility inside of her, but then again, she also hadn't known that Noah thought that way about her. "When you're all old and wrinkly, I'll still be my magnificent, mystical self! And I will never be lonely, because I will always have some sort of admirer waiting patiently to be acknowledged by me! But you?! You'll be lucky to get by on a sense of humor!" It's not true, of course; the kid's pretty cute, but that doesn't mean she can't say that he looks like shit on a stick.

But he's laughing. The boy is actually _laughing_! How dare he!

"See? I knew you couldn't possibly feel as bad about your looks as you say you do!"

She raises a brow. "What?"

"You know yourself that you're beautiful. Why else would you pick out a codename like 'Mystique'? Deep inside, you're proud of who you are. The insecurities you have only go skin-deep."

She's silent. Somehow, when he says it now, it seems clearer than it did before.

"It's easy to hate what you see when you're constantly being confronted by things that are different from you. It's easy to hate your blue hand when everyone around you has brown or pink hands."

"You know, pink isn't really a skin-colour."

"You know what I mean," he states with a huff. "Sable, then. Either way, you catch my drift."

"You know, you're pretty smart for a fifteen-year-old."

"Secret genius, I'm telling you."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get too full of yourself."

Noah smiles at her and they both head back in.

"I'm sorry for what I said, by the way."

"Hmm?"

"You wouldn't just get by on a sense humor."

"Thanks, Raven."

"Of course, it's really just the killer eyes that would nail you a chick."

"What?!" he squawks indignantly.

"Your physique, dude. I mean, you're like, all bones."

He flexes an arm and angles it so she can see the muscle bulging through the skin. "Do you see this? That's hours of training in the gym for you!"

Snorting, she replies, "That little chickpea? You should ask for a refund on your membership fee."

"Please! You couldn't beat me in a fight if you pulled out all your girly biting and scratching techniques."

"Put your money where your mouth is, kid."

"Fine! I'll bet you fifty bucks that I can beat you in a fight!"

"Alright, be ready tomorrow morning at eight."

"Fine!"

"Fine."

"You'd better come prepared, Mystique."

"Oh don't you worry your pretty little head over it, No-No, I have enough tricks up my sleeve."

"You'll need them, Rae old girl."

"What did you call me?!"

"Nothing at all, Rae. Old girl."

"You're gonna get it!"

"Save you strength for tomorrow."

"Oh, I'll have enough to spare!"

He takes off at a sprint. "You're waking the house!"

"It's a bloody mansion, they can't hear a thing! Now don't be such a pussy and stop running away!"

"Me?! YOU'RE the one actually wielding a knife! Where did you get that thing, anyway?!"

"Well wouldn't you like to know?!"

/_SHUT UP!_/

"Raven, it's not funny!"

"That wasn't me, you ass clown."

"You mean... that was actually the professor?"

/_Children. Please resolve this in the morning. There are people among us who would like to get a good night's rest. Myself, included._/

_I'm sorry, professor._

_Sorry Charles._

/_You're forgiven. Now up to bed, both of you. Before you wake Erik._/

When they see said angry Mutant head down the stairs trailed by an army of metal objects, they realize it's too late for that.

"Well, it was nice knowing you, kid."

"Likewise. Splitsies?"

"Seems to be the wisest course of action. Though I doubt it'll do more than divide the amount of metal in two."

"Well, I don't know about you, but I think the chances of surviving one stab wound or two are pretty critical to me."

A pan sails at her head and she ducks, only just managing to dodge it. "I see your point."

"Peace out!" He heads to the other end of the mansion, tailed by a metal spatula that hits his posterior repeatedly as he runs up to his room.

Raven backs up against the wall, holding her hands up innocently. "You do remember I'm the only girl in this house, right? Just a poor, fragile girl."

"Oh you'll be a poor, fragile girl when I'm done with you, alright!"

"CHARLES! SAVE ME!"

_/ Tired. You're on your own this time, sister dear_. / And with that thought, she breaks out at a dead run.

* * *

A/N: Poor Raven has been ignored a little too much, so I figured 'why not give her some screentime, the poor girl?' Not that any of you really care what I thought, but I'll tell you anyway 'cause I'm annoying like that.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

* * *

They're out in town when it happens.  
Nothing that would draw the attention of a normal human being, but, well, they're not normal human beings. Quite obviously.

It's a little girl, wearing a huge sweater and probably shorts underneath, but you can't see them as they are covered by the sweatshirt, along with bright yellow stockings. The first thing Sean notices is her flame-red hair. The second thing is the fact that she's not wearing any shoes. And the third, is that he is actually chasing after her. The scary thing is that he only notices after he's started running that he's trying to help her, as she is also being chased by three huge, burly men. Dressed in black and wearing black sunglasses. Like, seriously, how overt can you be?

The fifth thing he notices is that she's crying.  
The sixth is that he is actually really stupid because he has no idea where the heck they're going.

And then the girl stops at the dead end of an alley, and when she turns around Sean can see the dark marks on her face – bruises and scars and dried up blood. His resolve to protect this girl strengthens, and he shouts a shrill, "Stop!" the moment the three men try to close in on her.

They turn around, grimacing, and Sean can conclude that they are definitely pissed off by the sight of a lanky teenager trying to stop them from finishing their job. Whatever that may be.

"You touch her, I'll bleed you out," he snarls.

One of them snorts, and another replies, "Walk away and we will spare you, kid. This has nothing to do with you."

Sean glares at the man. "I'm not going to repeat myself."

"Just leave the kid, G. We only need her."

"Right. You two grab her and I'll keep my eyes on this one."

The little girl whimpers when they advance, and Sean realizes that he doesn't have another choice. "Cover your ears, kid," he calls over, and she listens without thought. Then he lets loose a shriek. It's a loud, piercingly shrill sound, and the men are too slow to follow the girl's example. He has to make sure he's not being too loud, seeing as he doesn't want the girl to go deaf, too.

"What the hell, B! Make him stop!"  
"You do it!"  
"I ain't uncovering my ears!"

Sean nearly jumps right out of his skin when he hears Charles' voice in his mind requesting that he stop. He does, and he feels a hand on his shoulder pulling him backwards. "We'll take it from here, boy-o," Erik says, and he watches the man crack his knuckles with a gleeful smirk on his face.

Within seconds, Erik has the men pushed against the alley walls and Raven is making her way over to the little girl hunched down in a corner, covering her face with her arm. Sean can see her lips moving, but he can't make out her words, but it doesn't seem to matter anyway because the girl isn't responding to the blonde. Distantly he's aware of the fact that Erik and Alex are 'interrogating' the men, 'persuading' them with violent kicks and punches.

He feels the professor's arm push him back even more, as though he's trying to warn him not to even think of helping out, and though it frustrates him, he says nothing and instead allows the movement and watches as Charles walks over to join his sister in the back of the alley.

Noah looks up at him questioningly, and Sean shrugs. He can't think of any words to say.

When Charles walks back with the little girl in his arms, he doesn't say a word, and the group of Mutants wordlessly follows him back to the van. They wait in silence for an added ten minutes until Erik joins them, covered in blood and with a satisfied expression on his face, sliding into the driver's seat with the manner of a man who's coming home from a long, yet somewhat satisfying day of work.

The girl lifts her head slightly to look at Sean, and he recognizes the gratitude in her warm, hazel eyes. He recognizes the undertones of hysteria, of intense fear, and he knows that he had looked upon his mother the very same way many times. Too many, for his liking.

When they arrive at the mansion, Charles carries the little girl up to his office, no doubt to question her about why she was running away from those people.

Sean suddenly realizes that they don't even know her name, or where her parents are, or if she was running away from her parents or from a gang and ohdearlord what if they actually just _kidnapped_ someone? What if her parents were just around the corner, and-

/_I had a telepathic conversation with the little one. She's a mutant. They were doing experiments on her._/

He bites his lip. He really ought to get his mind walls or whatever under control if he wants to keep Charles from hearing his every over-dramatic thought.

/_Don't think for even a moment that I'm through with you. You have quite a bit of explaining to do yourself, young man._/

What? _Again_? Seriously? What did he do?

But before he can worry any more about it, he feels someone punch his shoulder lightly and turns around to face Alex, who's holding up a soccer ball with a feral grin on his face. Sean realizes that he must have blown off a ton of steam letting out his frustrations on those grunts, and in a way he's happy that he pounded them, 'cause if Alex can smile like this then there must be something right with the world after all.

He nods and follows him outside. Noah doesn't join them. In a guilty way he's kind of happy he doesn't – it won't take too long before Alex realizes that it's probably way more fun hanging out with a kid who doesn't have any emotional exhaust in his head. And if he can get some of Alex' time without the kid, then he's going to grab on to it with both hands, thank you kindly.

"Dude! Heads up!"

* * *

The two of them are covered in grass-stains and are stretched out on the lawn when Sean hears the professor's voice in his head, dulcet tones wrapped around a blunt order and even with the image of the jovial young professor in his head he can't quite swallow away the nervous ball of anxiety that clots in his throat. Kind of like mascarpone.

"'Sup?" Alex grunts from beside him when he makes a move to get up.

"Prof wants to speak with me."

"Probably about running off all of a sudden."

"Huh?" He furrows his brows, completely astounded.

"Sean. C'mon."

"What?"

"You scared the hell out of us. No one knew why you suddenly ran off like that. First we saw you running, and then we saw the kid, and what with the red hair and all we all kinda' thought she was your little sister or something like that. So at first it was cool, but then we saw those big idiots chasing after you guys and it was like the prof just went apeshit."

Looking back on it now, he realizes that it must have been shocking to see him run off like that for no apparent reason. But still. Come on. It wasn't _that_ important, was it?

It all feels kind of muddled up in his head, anyway. Like everything's moving too fast, like he didn't really try to save the little girl. Like all of that happened a couple years ago instead of a couple hours.

/_Now, Sean._/

Well, if there ever were an incentive to rush, it would be the professor's commanding voice in your head. There's something about voices in your head that lure you into listening to them. Even if in Sean's case, perhaps it would be better if he stopped.

And so he makes his way up the dreaded stairs and into the dreaded office and closes the dreaded door and makes his way over to the dreaded desk and takes a seat in the dreaded chair. And the professor gives him the dreaded icing on the cake and throws him the dreaded look of disappointment.

"How, Sean?"

Before he can answer with a nice, eloquent, 'Huh?', the professor continues, "How could you get a stupid idea like that?"

Well, that's insulting. And Sean isn't really sure that he wants to explain that Alex wasn't that far off the mark. At all. Kind of hit the bull's-eye, actually.

"Do you realize how worried we were?"

"Uhm, not really, no."

The professor shoots him an icy glare and he stiffens. _Dang it. Should've just nodded guiltily._

"You just up and left! Without an explanation! You didn't even point or shout or request some help! You just _ran off_!"

"I'm sorry, prof. I didn't really think about what I was doing."

"Well, that much was clear."

"Look, isn't it pretty ethical of me that I just had this instinct to protect?"

"Actually, that depends on your point of view, since many would argue that if it's an instinct, it's not ethical at all. But that's a lecture for another day." Damn, he was sure he'd been stringing something together, there.

"Come on, professor, I just saw Cady and I didn't think."

"Cady?" the older Mutant repeats, and he bites his tongue. _Fuck._

"Language," Charles reprimands without thought. He steeples his fingers together and furrows his eyebrows, obviously deep in thought. "Cady... Your little sister?"

Sean clears his throat. "I saw the red hair. She was running. Cady never runs off like that unless something's really bothering her. And then I saw the tears, and, I dunno', I just kept running. But it wasn't Cady. So, please, prof, spare me."

"Spare you?"

"Don't, you know, sp-" Ugh. He hates the word. It just feels so degrading rolling off his tongue.

"Do you honestly think I shouldn't?"

Well, duh. But how can he explain why? "Well, punishment is usually to stop someone from doing something in future. But since I acted out of instinct, I can honestly say that nothing will stop me from doing something like that again."

"If that's the way your mind is set, I'm sure I can find a way to persuade you."

The younger Mutant groans. "Charles, come on, you're not seriously going to punish me for helping someone."

"Don't presume to know what I mean or don't mean to do." Well déjà fucking vu. How is he going to save his hide?

"But- but that's just complete bullshit."

"If you don't watch your mouth I will teach you to."

Sean sighs and leans back in the chair, defeated. "I don't know what you want me to say, professor. I saw a little kid running away from a group of big guys. She couldn't defend herself; she's only a child."

"So she could have just been playing around."

"But she wasn't!"

"You didn't have proof of this. You just ran off. Plus, you used your pow-"

"I could _see_ it!" he cuts in, voice strengthened by the annoyance that's building up inside of him.

He can feel a curious prodding in his head, like a cloud that tickles. Before he can stop it, he's thinking about the times when his father would tell him to take off his shirt and go stand up against the wall and how, against his better judgement, he would run as fast as his little legs could carry him – how he would catch a glimpse of the terrified face of his reflection in the windows and the mirrors and his baby sister's big, round eyes. Just an infant. A little baby. So innocent. So small.  
It hurts too much to picture his father hurting Cady the way he hurt him, and he cries out, shouting, "Stop it!"

"My apologies, Sean. It was supposed to be a shallow search." The expression on the professor's face tells him that it's his fault that it always goes a step too far, that he's too emotional, too caught up in his memories, to allow a superficial scan.

"Please stop doing that, professor. I really don't like it when you go through my memories."

The man gives him a sad smile. "Duly noted. I apologize."

Sean takes a deep breath and stares out of one of the windows. "So who is she, anyway?" he asks, if only to get the topic off of him. If Charles realized, he doesn't show.

"Her name is Jill Hendricks. She's five years old."

"What's her mutation?"

"Well, as of yet, we're not quite sure. She has a certain connection with nature, and she has the ability to speed the blooming process of a flower. The problem is that she wasn't able to learn much about her mutation before her great uncle picked up on it. He is in some way linked to a scientific organization which studies genetic mutation in a more... well, illegal way, than Hank and myself."

"And she's alright now?"

"She's fine. No damage to the ear canals whatsoever. She is perfectly capable of realizing when her head is turned sideways. You did a fine job of protecting her."

The amount of pride that fills him should be a warning sign that he's becoming too attached to the professor, too dependant on his good opinion of him, but the young Mutant doesn't really care at the moment.

"Though that doesn't take away from the fact that you put yourself in great danger."

"It was me or her, professor, and she's just a kid."

"So are you!"

He's surprised by the sudden strength behind the prof's voice and plasters himself against the back of the chair.

"I'm sixteen," he responds, though, knowing he's just digging himself a deeper hole, but completely unwilling to shrink back and nod meekly, admitting like some stupid weakling that he's a child. He's not. He's a man. A young man, admittedly, but still a man. He isn't supposed to have to put up with this kind of bullshit.

"And so you are still a child."

The young Mutant can't help but feel that Charles doesn't really have the right to tell him he's 'just a kid' when he's not really quite old enough to even have a sixteen-year-old kid, himself. Unless he had the kid when he was eleven. Still, he supposes it doesn't really matter what he thinks, since the Mutant of the house is just going to do whatever the hell he feels is right, anyway.

"You are my responsibilty, Sean Cassidy, and I'm not about to overlook this behavior."

"You can't be serious, professor!"

"I am quite serious, thank you. And if you keep up this behavior, I won't be going as mildly on you as I am planning to at the moment."

"This is-"

"-Think before you speak, Sean. Do you really want to dig a deeper hole for yourself?"

He supposes he doesn't, but who the hell does this guy think he is, telling him shit like that?! Well, besides the only person he'll ever want to impress, probably.

He folds his arms across his chest and looks down. "Alright, give me the verdict."

"You act like you're about to walk the green mile, my boy."

_Please just get it over with. I hate dragging shit out_, he thinks, but grins sheepishly and rubs the back of his head. "Well, my butt's on the line, prof."

Charles eyes him curiously. "Very true. Well, either way, it's not your posterior that will be feeling the brunt of this punishment. Tomorrow morning by eight a.m. sharp I want all the windows in the mansion cleaned. And no, you can't use your powers, because you would just shatter I would suggest an early rise. Oh, and look at the time. It's already nine thirty. Which brings me to the second part of your punishment. Up to bed with you, young man."

He feels his mouth dropping open. Before he can say anything, though, Charles holds up a hand and states, "Don't say something you'll regret later on, Sean."

Without another word, the copperhead turns and exits the office.

Once up in his room, he plops down in bed and exhales deeply. When he summarizes the day in his head, he comes to the realization that it couldn't have gone much worse.

Expelling another sigh, he rolls over and kicks off his shoes, enjoying the satisfactory thunking noise they make when they hit the floor. He stares at a spot on the wall until his eyes start to burn and relishes the feeling when he shuts them. Slowly, he can feel himself drifting off.

Tug.

With a start, he sits up, turning around at the same time. Big hazel eyes gaze up at him from underneath a mop of frizzy, wet red hair. He can smell the unique scent of Raven's shampoo and he recognizes the big T-shirt she's wearing as sleeping garment as Erik's.

"Were you sent to bed, too?" he asks.

She nods.

"Can't sleep?"

She confirms with a shake of her head.

"D'you want to sleep in here?"

She bites her lip and looks down, nodding.

He pulls back the blanket and moves further back. She glances over to the door for a second, like she's considering running off, but then she climbs into bed with him and hugs her knees to her chest, pointedly avoiding his gaze.

"I'm Sean," he says when he realizes she's still too tense to try and fall asleep. Her big eyes settle on his face again. "You're Jill, right?" Another brief nod. "I hear you can make flowers bloom faster." She smiles lightly. "Sounds really cool. Much cooler than my mutation. You saw it before, remember? Well, heard it." She looks away. "You know those men aren't going to hurt you ever again, right? You're safe here, at the mansion. I can promise you that."

She inches a little closer to him, and he pats her on the head. She yawns widely and he smiles down at her before catching the fatigue and letting loose a yawn of his own. "Man, am I ever tired," he groans, rolling over onto his back. Jill scoots a little closer yet, until she can rest her head against his side. He curls a protective arm around her, and wonders for a second if this is what it would have felt like to have Cady in his arms.

"Goodnight, Jill."

"Goodnight Sean," she whispers back, and a warm glow spreads through his chest.

* * *

A/N: D'awww :3

BTW, I've got a question for you guys. Do you want to stick with the current favorites or would you rather have me switch things up a little? Like give Hank a little bonding time with Erik or something like that? Btw, sorry for Hank's lack of activity, lately. I guess he's holed up in his lab. Hur hur.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

* * *

Erik finds Jill sleeping in Sean's room and is tempted to pull the little girl out of the pothead's arms, but when he sees the way she burrows her head sleepily into his chest, and the way dark red hair spills and mingles on a Superman pillow, he refrains from doing so.

He walks by Havok's room and finds the boy sleeping at his desk, head pillowed by his algebra book. He heaves a little sigh and pulls the teen into his arms and deposits him again in his bed, covering him with expensive sheets which he's sure the boy isn't used to, yet. He runs a careful hand through the younger Mutant's short hair and turns around again, exiting the room.

When he walks by Hank's room, he isn't surprised to find the young man working on some kind of formula on the window with a special marker that was probably invented by some American fool who felt like promoting children scribbling on the walls. Either way, the youth is nineteen years old, so it's not like he's about to go draw stick-figures on his bed. He stands directly behind Beast and expels a gruff "Mmhm," like he really understands Math and Chemistry well enough to know what the boy's working on. It serves its purpose, though, and Hank jumps and turns around quickly, eyes big and bright and shocked.

"E-Erik! Didn't hear you come in!"

"A sign, if there ever was one, that you are tired, McCoy. You usually hear things coming from a mile away." _Or smell them_, he thinks, but is loath to utter out-loud.

"Y-yeah, maybe I should get to bed." The young man awkwardly shifts his weight to his other foot as an awfully clear sign that he's not sure how to walk around Erik without leaving any vulnerable areas open for attack.

"Well," the older Mutant replies, clapping one of the scientist's shoulders heavily, "get some rest." and with those words, he dismisses himself and walks out, hearing the young man wipe his formula off the window with a cloth and mumble something to himself about 'the value of x' or whatever. Erik may not know much about Math, but he knows enough about life to get by, and he knows that Math will get you nowhere in a concentration camp.

Raven's room is disturbingly close to Hank's, and what's more troubling is the fact that she's not in bed. He knocks on her door, hoping that if she's in her private washroom she'll hear it, and he's pleased to note that she does and walks out with a toothbrush in her foam-adorned mouth.

"'Sup?" she asks around the plastic.

"Just wanted to make sure you were in here. It's about time for bed."

She eyes him skeptically. "Well, here I am."

He smirks at the way her words come out all garbled. "Yes, here you are. You'll go to bed soon, yes?"

Raven raises a brow and huffs. "You intent on becoming my second big brother? 'Cause I've already got a bossy-boots sleeping down the hall."

He wants to reply, but she holds up a hand and rushes to the bathroom. He hears her cleansing her mouth of toothpaste and gargling water before heading out with a towel in her hands. "You don't need to worry about my sleeping patterns, Erik. I think it's you we need to worry about – who would've thought you'd become so domestically protective over night?"

"It's a trait I acquired from your brother," he defends himself, not that he needs to. "And, besides, I'm just doing a check on the mansion. It's big enough to hide a bloody army in."

She looks up as though thinking something over, and then she nods, saying, "Yes. Yes, I imagine it is."

Deciding he doesn't want to know what kind of mischief is at work in her mind, he backs up toward the door and nods back, saying, "Get some sleep."

She grins. "Sir, yes sir."

He smirks back at her and shuts the door behind him gently.

Five down – two to go.

Incidentally, the two in question are both in the younger one's room, sitting on the boy's bed. Charles has Noah in his arms and is rocking him back and forth, murmuring little things like, "It's alright now, pet" and "I'm here, nothing can hurt you". Erik grants himself the leeway of taking the scene in, standing in the open doorway like a lurking stalker.

The raven-haired boy is shivering frantically, obviously fraught with fright. "Sh-she t-tried but-but I – and she was cry-crying but I j-just _left_ an-and I-I-"

"Ssshh," the older Mutant hushes, pressing a kiss into the boy's dark locks. "You were distraught. There was nothing you could have done."

"But I-I was so _stupid_. I'm such a-a coward. And now she's with them because her own brother couldn't-couldn't-" he breaks out into tears again and Charles rubs his back soothingly, hushing him gently.

/_Memories of his little sister. It seems Sean's stunt with Jill awakened them._/

Erik doesn't know how long Charles has known of his presence, but he decides not to be spooked by it and to instead see it as a way for Charles to protect one of his own in case someone had come to hurt the boy.

_And what exactly did he do that was so cowardly?_ he wonders.

/_Apparently, his little sister has a more pronounced mutation, and the orphanage in charge of them put her on a special list, which basically meant that she was going to be shipped off to live with the nuns. She had come running to him for help, but once they cracked the big men out, he didn't stand much of a chance. They knocked him out cold, but he still sees it as being cowardly._/

_And the leaving bit?_

/_Well, here he is._/

Erik takes another deep breath (he should start a meditation class at this point) and heads over to the boy. He sits down on the bed beside Charles, dipping the mattress even more, and grabs hold of the boy's chin and raises his face until he catches the teen's bright blue eyes. "What happened wasn't your fault. End of story. Understood?"

The boy nods, but he doesn't seem to be all that convinced.

"Good. Now, you will sleep. And tomorrow, when you're clear-headed, we'll bust your kid sister out of the nunnery. Is that a plan?"

Charles shoots him a shocked look, but he ignores it, knowing full-well that it was Charles' intention to get the kid to the mansion one way or another, though he has a hunch there was no 'busting-out-plan' involved.

But the boy's face clears and that's all he could ever ask for. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," he says, nodding his head rapidly. Erik places a hand on the boy's head and riffs through the locks with his fingers, as though searching his head for any other fearful thoughts. Finding none, he gets up again and repeats, "Sleep," before heading out. Before he's outside, he hears the boy whisper, "Would you stay for a bit?" and smiles, shutting the door behind himself and trusting the labrat to take care of the kid for the remainder of the night. No doubt Noah meant five minutes, but Charles had taken it as five hours.

He crawls into bed and pushes five of the unnecessary cushions off of it, kicking the blankets to the foot of the bed as his coarse skin is still unaccustomed to the feel of fine, silky fabric. Yawning, he pulls out the old nazi coin and elevates it, letting it hover above his palm and slide through his fingers. He flicks it to one end of the room with his mind and pushes it down on the light switch, turning the lights off and summoning it back into his hand. In the pale moonlight, he stares at it for a while, recounting the days in which he had fought to avenge his family; his people. With a bitter twist of his mouth, he flicks it onto the floor, fully intent on ignoring it for the rest of the night. After half an hour of tossing and turning, though, he gets up and picks it up off the floor, intentionally using his hands instead of his powers, and places it on the nightstand.

"Es tut mir leid, Mutter, Vater."*

* * *

A/N: *: "I'm sorry, mother, father."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

* * *

At seven a.m. Charles, Erik, Alex, Hank and Noah stand outside in their uniforms, ready to head out.  
Sean is still busy scrubbing the windows and is only about half-way through.

Charles shields his eyes from the sun and looks up. "Eight a.m. is your deadline, Sean. Do make sure you've done the back of the house by then."

Sean groans. "Professor, that's way too little time. I can't get all of this done by then."

"You should have got up earlier, then."

"I couldn't! Jill was trapping me!"

Alex walks over to the little girl picking at blades of grass and picks her up by the waist before folding her over his arm like a sack of potatoes. "Is that true, madam? Were you giving Sean trouble?"

"No-no, she wasn't giving me any trouble or anything!" Sean calls down from up on the ladder. "She was just wrapped around me like a little snake."

"Alex! Come on, we're heading out!"

"Heading out?" Sean asks, "Where are you guys going?"

"New kid's got a little sister with a mutation stuck sharing a roof with nuns. That's gotta' be one of the most boring lifestyles I can think of."

"What? You guys are leaving without me?"

"Well, Raven's staying here, too. To keep an extra eye on the kid."

"But- ugh. Fine. Go have fun without me."

Alex beams up at him. "Will do, Torch."

"Banshee!"

"Yeah yeah. Carrot-top."

"Get your lemonhead out of here!"

Alex snickers and sets Jill down before getting into the car, shutting the door just as it drives off.

Sean glances down at Jill who'd returned to picking at blades of grass and studying them intently. "Just my luck, huh?"

She looks up at him and smiles.

* * *

It is Erik, this time, who returns with an armful of little black-haired girl with big blue eyes and cherubic cheeks. The moment Noah gets out of the car, he flocks around Erik like a worried mother hen, even though the child is obviously unhurt. When Erik humors him and places the little girl on her feet beside her brother, he immediately clasps her hand in his and pulls her along to the main room.

Raven, deciding she doesn't want to be outside right now, what with the fact that Sean _still_ hasn't finished washing all of the windows, walks over to the duo seated next to each-other on the couch and takes in how very alike they are. The black hair and blue eyes are one thing, but they have the exact same nose and chin, as well.

She sits down on the girl's other side. "What's your name, sweet-pea?"

Long eyelashes flutter and big blue pools of light fixate on her current hazel ones. When the answer finally comes, it's hesitant, like a whisper, and Raven wonders if it's a result of living in the nunnery for so long.

Still. 'Abigail' seems to suit the child. Even though she obviously dislikes the name.

"But you can call me Abby. Or Gail."

"And what's your last name, Abby?"

"Barrows."

Raven shoots Noah a look. "Pretty close to Barrons. I have to say, you do know your stuff, kid."

He shrugs and wraps an arm around his kid sister. "Wanna' see my room, Gail?"

She grabs a hold of his arm and nods with a huge smile. "I'd really really like to."

"I'm sure we could figure out a way that we could share. Charles is really nice in that way."

Raven smirks. She doesn't know what her brother did to change Noah's mind about him, but it must've been big. Just a few days ago Noah was shouting at them all to 'cut the crap' and 'realize that this man's controlling your minds!'. So it's with a smile that she overhears him telling Abigail about how cool the man is and how nice he is for letting them all stay here, in his mansion.

"She must be hungry," she mutters to herself, getting up to fix the girl something. When she enters the kitchen, she finds Erik purposefully flipping pancakes with Alex watching him, drooling.

"Is that for Abby?" she asks, sitting down beside Alex.

"And the rest of the livestock," Erik replies, "Because Lord knows how much you kids eat." He shovels the pancake onto the stack that is steadily forming on their nice china, probably unaware of the fact that they never use those plates. Ever. The only reason Charles keeps the china is because it would be too hard for him to throw away any remnants of his mother.

Alex reaches out a hand toward the stack and Erik deftly smacks it away. "Little ones first."

The teen glares at him and rubs his hand, muttering, "Those damn kids have it all."

Raven chuckles and grabs a pancake off the stack for him, slapping it onto his face. "Here you go."

Alex, not in the least bit put-off by the fact that he has pancake all over his face, plucks it off and folds it two before sticking an end into his mouth. "Why does she get to have one and I don't?" he asks around his bite of sugary dough.

"I'm a lady," she replies, "And besides, what are you whining about, you're the one who got it in the end."

Erik waves a spatula in her direction. "And I will not be misled by you again. No more first serves for you, either."

She pouts. "Eeeeriiiik."

"Scheiße! Do I live with a bunch of toddlers?"

"Apparently," Raven deadpans, grinning.

Erik merely groans and continues flipping pancakes.

* * *

By the time Sean's done, he's sopping wet and smells of window-cleaner, and it's six o'clock in the afternoon. Erik tells him to wash up before dinner and the boy is eager to get out of his wet clothes and into a warm shower. The problem is that Jill isn't intent on letting him out of her sight.

"C'mere," he says, and little Jill is faced with a conundrum. Resolve to be stubborn and follow Seanie, or listen to this big, scary man?

In the end, it's fear versus fear and she decides that it's the most immediate fear that needs dealing with first. So she walks up to the man whose name is Erik Lensherr, and tries her best not to flinch when he puts a hand on her shoulder.

"You're too young to be stepping into showers with men," he says. She thinks it's a joke, because she can see the mirth dancing around in his eyes and the little grin that's pulling at his mouth. She doesn't know what to respond, though, and thankfully Charles decides to step in just at that moment and intervene.

"That's disgusting, Erik," he says, sitting down on the other end of the couch and leaning back comfortably, crossing one leg over the other.

"It's the truth," Erik replies, really smiling this time, and she smiles back at him because she thinks it would make him happy.

"See? She agrees!" he picks her up and places her on his lap, saying, "She might be the smartest one here!"

"I believe that spot is reserved by our mister McCoy downstairs, who, by the way, was the one who found a way to get little Abigail out of that nunnery."

"Ah, yes. Who would have thought he'd studied law? I didn't even know we had that many rights."

"_You_ didn't know? You seem like the kind of person who would look that up right away."

"Why? Because I am intent on defending the rights of Mutants?"

"Well... yes."

"There is only one right that matters to me, Charles."

"And which one is that?"

"Don't do to another what you don't want to be done to yourself."

"I don't think that's a right."

"Well it should be."

"Very well then. Fancy a game of chess before supper?"

"Only if the little one is on my team."

Charles pouts (quite adorably if Erik is one to judge).

"How about we let her decide?"

"Fine. Jill, do you want to be on the winning team, with me, or the losing team, with Charles?"

The poor girl looks like she's about to wet her pants. She opens her mouth to reply, but no sound comes out. A little hand is raised instead to indicate the person she wants to play with, and Erik sees the way Charles is smiling warmly at her, fairly begging her with those damn persuasive eyes and long eyelashes, and those plump red lips with a ridiculous little bow and –

"Dinner's ready!"

"Saved by the bell, eh, dear?" Charles asks, giving her warm pat on the head before getting up. "If that boy isn't out of the shower yet he'll miss supper."

Erik smirks. "As if you could be that 'cruel' to him. We both know that you would fix him a plate and stick it in the oven to reheat if need be."

"I would do no such thing," Charles responds, but Erik knows better.

"Seanie's coming down for supper, right?" Jill asks, and both men look down at her at the same time. It's no secret that she only speaks to Sean, but perhaps they've found a way to get her to talk to them, namely, if it's _about_ Sean.

"Have no fear, sweetheart, I'm sure Sean's stomach couldn't turn down food if he wanted to."

Erik picks the girl up and heads into the dining room with her. He sets her down on the chair next to Sean's and Raven scoots over a seat so Alex can sit on Sean's other side. He doesn't miss the way Abigail looks at the girl when she sees her in his arms, but he decides not to think too much of it, especially when she giggles gleefully from being poked in the side by her big brother.

"No elbows on the table," Noah reprimands, but his voice is soft and his tickling fingers soften the sting of chastisement.

"You're worse than mother superior," she chortles.

He makes a face. "Did you just compare me to an abbess?"

"Yep!"

Sean makes his entrance with a towel wrapped around his neck. "Sorry I'm late." He takes his seat and doesn't call her on it when Jill scoots closer to his side.

"Not a problem, Sean," Charles replies, "but since you crossed your deadline, I will have to find an alternative punishment for you."

"What?" the redhead squawks. "But I still did it! I just needed a bit more time-"

"-I wouldn't call eleven hours a bit more time."

"C'mon prof," Alex tries, "he obviously worked as fast as he could, what with the way that Jill was out there with him and all. He wouldn't want to make her sit outside with him all day. And if he really needed eleven hours to finish the job, I doubt getting up earlier would have helped, unless you wanted him to get started straight-away."

Raven, who's busy ladling some greenbeans onto her plate, doesn't miss the deathglare Erik sends Alex and quickly passes him the bowl, asking, "Greenbeans, Erik? They're very good, you know. Made them myself."

He takes the bowl without comment and without even looking at her, seemingly intent on slicing Alex open with his eyes.

"I think I can judge for myself when additional punishment is or isn't fair, Alex, but thank you for your consideration on the matter," Charles politely responds, succeeding in making the blonde slump back in his chair, red-faced.

Sean pops a cherry tomato into his mouth and looks down, chewing thoughtfully. When he's finished swallowing, he looks up at Charles and says, "Okay," ever-so-simply. The man seems to be pleased with the response, and smiles warmly at him before passing the fish to Raven.

Jill, who doesn't seem to agree with the fact that the young man she'd sat by the whole time would have to do even _more_ work, takes pity on the other redhead and puts one of her cherry tomatoes on his plate. Sean looks over at her serious face and nearly bursts out laughing, but instead he pats her on the head and smiles kindly at her. "Thanks Jillybean."

Jill, believing that her work is done, attacks her greenbeans with glee. She hasn't seen so much fresh food in the same place in years! And nothing has ever tasted as nice as Raven's greenbeans, either! That gruel from the dark scary place couldn't compare at all to the meal in front of her!

She feels someone's eyes on her and looks up, catching Charles' sad gaze, and wonders what she did to make him upset with her. Was it the tomato?

/_No, sweetheart. I'm not upset about the tomato._/

Oh, right! He speaks mind!

/_Well, I don't_ speak _mind, exactly, but... Anyway, don't worry about it, little one. I was just a little sad that the men in the scary place didn't give you proper nutrition. I mean food._/

_Oh. Okay. But everything's better now._

He smiles at her and she sees his eyes genuinely clear up. /_Yes, Jill. Everything's better now._/

They continue their meal in silence, finding it more pleasing to listen to everyone else talk.

And everyone else has a lot to say.

* * *

A/N: Don't worry guys, Charles probs just has him reading a book or something. I didn't mean for it to be an actual punishment, more a reason for Charles to test Sean and see if he really respects him enough to listen to him, even when he feels that something's unfair. And I'm sure he coddled our little banshee as much as possible, no worries ;)


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

* * *

Noah knows, the moment his big toe got to the other side, that he crossed the line. He knows better than to push it with Erik, but, to be fair, the man has been hogging his little sister for an entire week! And not even in a good way!

It started three days ago, when Abigail came into their shared room (thank Heaven for Charles) and started whining about what that mean ol' Erik had made her do. Apparently, she had had to run two laps around the mansion for taking Raven's hairbrush without asking. The girl expressed quite avidly that Raven had been fine with it when she'd heard, but that that mean ogre of an Erik hadn't let it go.

Noah had simply tickled her and let the matter drop. If there was one person he did not want to get into a fight with, it was Erik.

But then, two days ago, Erik had reprimanded her for playing with her food. Abby had looked stung at the sharp rebuke, and started shoveling bites into her mouth at a rather worrisome velocity. Noah had felt the need to remind the man of his place, to tell him that he wasn't the girl's father – but why bother? Up against Erik, there was no winning a verbal argument. Not because he was that much better at coming up with excuses, just because he had that conviction that simply persuaded anyone to let it go and let him win.

Yesterday, it had started again, with the damn bed-time. Noah had been watching a movie with Gail snuggled up beside him, and Erik had told her to go up to bed. She'd asked ever-so-sweetly if she could stay up just a bit longer with her brother, and though it hadn't been said strictly, the fact that Erik had said 'I don't think that's such a good idea' basically came down to 'No' anyway.

But today! Today Noah's bubble had burst. Abigail had finally told them what her gift was, and Alex had asked for a demonstration. She'd smiled and said, 'Stand back a little' before tipping a glass filled with water and elevating the water with her powers, making it swirl beautifully through the room. They'd gone into the garden to play with the hose and see what else she could do, but of course, children will be children, and excitement amongst youth will nearly always result in accidents, and so Jill had slipped on the patio and fallen smack-dab onto her face. They had all rushed up to her and Alex had gone for an ice pack while Sean had pulled her into his arms, shushing her and telling her it wasn't as bad as it probably felt. At the same time, Abigail apologized profusely over and over again, hoping the other girl heard her over the sound of her own sobs.

Erik had chosen that exact moment to step outside to see what they were doing and had, of course, freaked out. Quietly.

_ "We do not use our powers on each-other around here, Abigail,"_ he'd reprimanded, without giving her any time to explain. _"You're too young to have complete control over them."_

_"We were just fooling around,"_ Noah had tried to intervene, but Erik had whirled on him and fumed, _"How very appropriate. Of course you were just fooling around, you fools! What if she had lost control of her powers and Jill had drowned? What if all of you had drowned? You never know when someone can lose control!"_ There had been a flash of remembrance in Erik's eyes, like he'd seen precisely that situation unfold, once, long ago.

_"It's just water, Erik,"_ Alex had said, and Noah felt sorry for him when Erik turned on him and barked, _"Mouth shut, Summers! Or I will see to you later as well!"_

_"Damn,"_ Sean had muttered, still cradling a cried-out Jill, and luckily for him Erik hadn't decided to comment on it and had instead taken Abigail by the arm and inside the house. It took Noah a total of five seconds to chase after them, and it took Abigail's moan of protest for his patience to snap.

* * *

"What the hell are you doing?!" he shouts at Erik, who has entered an unused bedroom and seated himself in one of the big chairs in the corner of the room. He is in the process of pulling Abby over his knee when Noah pulls the little girl back into the safe circle of his arms and growls, "Don't touch her!"

Erik looks about ready to blow a fuse and needs to take a deep breath before explaining, not without exasperation, "She needs to be disciplined for using her powers so carelessly."

"Look, it was just an accident."

"That does not excuse her carelessness."

"No. No way. These things happen. Children make mistakes. I won't let you hit my sister for making a mistake."

"I am not going to _hit_ her, I'm going to spank her."

"What's the difference?!" Noah shouts, because, heck, Erik's doing that thing he always does. He speaks in that manner that expresses superiority and complete knowledge over all things important in life that you don't know about or just haven't figured out, yet.

He knows he's red in the face and he knows he made Gail jump in surprise, but this is his little sister, the same little sister he had let go of not too long ago once. He won't make the same mistake again.

/ _You're not handing her over to a monster, Noah. This is Erik you're insulting – the same Erik who promised you he would get Abigail out of the nunnery. Which he did. He won't damage her permanently. _/

He turns to face the man who appears in the doorway and walks a couple of steps backwards. He considers the fact that both men are now intent on taking Abigail from him and backs up toward the window.

"We're not trying to take her from you, my boy. You're allowed to stay in the room to see for yourself, but you may not interfere with any discipline meted out by either Erik or myself. Or you could give her the privacy I'm sure she deserves and we can talk about this downstairs, over a cup of tea. Alright, Noah?"

He thinks about it for a tenth of a second and then spits, "No! No, you can't do this to her! It's not like she pushed Jill or tripped her or anything! It was an _accident_! You can't punish her for this!"

Abby chooses that moment to speak up. "Just let him do it, Noah. He's right; I should have known better."

"No! Do you even know what you're signing up for?!"

"Of course! The nuns used to smack my knuckles with a ruler! I know it'll hurt! But it's better than, than if nothing happened! Don't you get it? Jill's hurt... it's my fault..." She starts to cry, and Noah quickly tries to dissuade her off her train of thought, but Charles pulls him toward the door and he watches, powerless, as Erik picks his little sister up and holds her close, whispering things in her ear that he can't make out.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he's aware of the fact that he could push Charles away and make a mad dash for Abby, but he's also aware of the fact that it wouldn't take long before they separated them again. So he allows the professor to take him downstairs, trying to harden his heart to the events that will soon unfold.

* * *

"Milk? Sugar? A lemon wedge?" Charles offers, but Noah merely shakes his head 'no' and looks away. He can feel a lump of dread flip-flopping in his stomach and he can't help but think that Gail might come running down the stairs in a few minutes, crying her eyes out and demanding that she be brought back to live with the nuns. He can already see her tear-soaked face as she asks him why he let Erik do that to her, why he hadn't kept pushing.

What kind of a horrible brother is he?

"You're not a horrible brother, Noah. On the contrary; it takes a strong person to see what's best for their little sister, and it takes a good enough brother to let her be subjected so such discipline. She's old enough to gain knowledge from it, and young enough to find comfort in Erik's ability to keep her in line. Don't make yourself sick with your worries that she might reject you, when, as a matter of fact, she will only come to love you even more for introducing her to this person who cares enough about her to make her see the error of her actions and not let her drown in regret."

He can see the logic in Charles' words, but it's not enough to remove all doubt from his mind. It's not enough to make him believe that Abigail won't hate him for this.

Charles sits down beside him and pushes a cup of tea into his hands. "Drink."

"I don't think I can right now." He'd probably chuck it right back up.

"Noah, listen. Nothing bad is going to happen to Abigail. Well, nothing permanently damaging. She's getting a spanking, not a death sentence."

"But that doesn't mean I'm okay with it. I still don't see why she's being punished because of an accident. I mean, accidents happen, right?" He looks up at the professor with curious eyes, quite obviously trying to convince him to barge up the stairs and break open the door, shouting, _'I object!'_.

"We must impress the importance of caution on all of you, Noah. You are Mutants. That separates you from the rest of society. And if we want all of us to be able to blend in, caution is key to integration. If this happened out there, those people wouldn't have seen it is a mere accident. Someone got hurt because of mutation. To them, the how and why don't matter. They will look past all that and see nothing but an enemy."

"Then why would we even bother trying to blend in?" Noah sulks.

Charles smiles and tips his face up. "You already know the answer to that question, Noah. Now, drink your tea."

* * *

Jill feels horrible for what she did. She shouldn't have slipped and fallen straight on her stupid face. She should have been more careful. If she had, no-one would have been so concerned, and Abby wouldn't have gotten into trouble.

Now Abigail's going to be angry at her. And, honestly, she doesn't blame her. Because it's all her fault.

"Hey, you okay, Jillabean?"

She looks up at Sean and nods tightly, then decides it might help to let him know how bad she feels for being the catalyst for this mess and shakes it.

"What's up?" the boy asks, turning the sound of the TV on mute and giving her his full attention.

"Abby's in trouble because of me."

"What? No, don't think that. It could've just as well been me who'd slipped on that water, Jill. We should all have been paying more attention to where we were mucking about with the water."

"But now she's beingpunished!"

"Well, yeah."

"But if we all should have been paying more attention... I don't get it."

"Well, see, if Alex and I go out to play soccer – I mean football –"

Alex chooses that moment to walk in and say, "Don't confuse her any more, carrothead. Jill, it's simple as this: it's her powers. If I goad Sean into flying off the Empire State Building, and he did it, and he fell on top of someone else and that person got injured, it would have been partly my fault for making him do it, yeah?"

She nods.

"But don't you think that Sean, being the person who knows what his limits are, should be smart enough to tell me that he couldn't do it without hurting someone?"

"But why can Sean fly?"

They both look at her like she just asked why the sky is blue.

"Uhm, because that's his power?"

"I thought he made people's ears bleed."

"Oh. Uhm, no, Jill, I can do more than that. You see, there's this sonar wave that I emit when I screech, and it's kind of like... well... I don't know, vibrations? You know how bats can send out a signal when they screech, and when the vibrations hit a wall or something it returns to them and they can judge how far away that wall is?"

She shakes her head, looking thoroughly confused.

"Well, uh... see... huh. I really don't know how to explain my Mutation, actually."

"Why don't you just show her?" Raven asks as she walks in with a glass of juice in her hand.

"What is up with you people and just popping up out of nowhere?" Sean complains.

"I wouldn't really call the doorway 'nowhere'," Raven states, smirking, "but anyway, why don't you? I'm sure the professor wouldn't mind if he was there to keep an eye on things."

"No!" Jill utters, looking horrified. "No, you shouldn't! You'll fall on someone and you'll be punished!"

Alex laughs and grabs a blueberry from the bowl in Raven's hand. "Don't worry, Jill, I was just using that as an example. I'm sure Sean wouldn't really fall on top of some unfortunate bloke."

"I do hope you're not talking about me," the professor says, walking in with Noah on his heels.

"Wherever would you get that idea, prof?" Alex asks, grinning.

Charles flashes him an indulgent smile and sits down next to Jill, plucking her up from the sofa and sitting her down on his lap. "Now what's this all about, hm?"

The girl looks hopelessly up a him and then back at Sean, who nodds encouragingly. "It's my fault... and also all our fault, that Abby's being punished," the little girl confesses in a whisper.

"Oh, no my dear," he instantly negates, cupping the side of her face and making her look at him. "It's a little bit of everyone's fault, yes, but it's not your fault at all for being the one who slipped. Abigail is really sorry that you did, I'm sure, and she would feel bad that you feel guilty over her punishment. You all should have been looking out, that's true, and I don't want you recklessly running about when there's water on the floor, but those accidents happen. However, it was Abigail who should have known not to use her powers like that, especially without adult supervision. Do you understand what I'm saying, sweetheart?"

Jill nodds and sees Noah look painfully uncomfortable with the topic of conversation, so she twists in Charles' arms to see the man better and ask, "Could we watch Sean fly?"

The professor looks over at the mentioned teen and asks, "Would you feel up to it?"

Sean grins back and responds, "As if you need to ask."

"Very well, then. Off we go, little ducklings."

Jill giggles when Sean throws her on his back and gives her a piggy-back ride outside, only slowing down a little bit when Charles' stern voice chastises, "I just warned you lot not to run recklessly around the house!"

The copperhead answers with an affirmative neigh and opens the door with his teeth and a foot, racing out.

"Kids," Jill hears Charles groan, but when she turns around to look at him she can see a warm smile gracing his fine features and knows that all is well with the world.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N**: Okay guys, I KNOW you're waiting eagerly for Wolvie & Cyke, but trust me, the wait is worth it hahaha!

* * *

**Chapter 14**

* * *

Twelve pops had done it for the seven-year-old, in Erik's opinion. She'd started crying at six, wailing at eight, and at ten she'd just resigned herself to her fate, still crying loudly. Erik assumed that most of it was out of guilt, though. Before they'd started, he'd had a talk with her about how it was not completely her fault that Jill slipped, and that though the other girl was hurt, she wasn't fatally wounded or anything nearly as serious. The problem was that she _could_ have been, and that they should always be very careful when using their powers.

That had done the girl in and made the crying go up a notch. It broke the usually stoic man's heart to listen to the little girl's wails, but he knew that Abigail would thank him for it, later.

When the punishment was dealt with, he gathered the child up in his arms and hushed her, rocking slowly back and forth. "Cry it out now, child, because once we set foot out of this room there will be no more tears shed on this accident, yes? It's over now, and you're forgiven."

"S-So you don't- you don't hate m-me?" Big blue eyes peered up at him and a pink lower lip wobbled, revealing a missing tooth. He deftly caught her chin and soothed the trembling flesh. "No, child, I do not hate you." He wanted to say that he never did and he never will, but the truth is, he's not so sure he can be that kind of person for Abigail. This is Charles' forte, not his.

The tears pool in her large eyes and finally tip over, sliding down her cherubic cheeks before plopping wetly onto Erik's leg. "A-and Jill's okay?"

"Yes, she's perfectly fine. Your brother's very worried about you, but for the rest I would assume this crazy household is back to its usual, or rather unusual, business."

"Noah!" she gasped as though she'd only just remembered she had a brother. "Are you angry at him? Is he gettin' a spanking, too?"

"I don't think so, little one. And if he was to get a punishment, I believe Charles has already dealt with it. But no, I'm not angry at him. I was frustrated with him that he wouldn't coöperate, but I can understand that he believed his duty as a brother was to protect you and that at that moment he could not see that reacting upon the immediate danger would only prolong the inevitable and would actually make everything that much worse."

She gaped at him, slack-jawed, and he raised her chin to close her mouth. "You don't want to swallow a fly," he warned her, which immediately had her pressing her lips into a firm line, shaking her head seriously.

"Are _you_ angry at _me_?" he asked.

She shook her head again, looking shocked that he would ask. Deciding that she really needed to say the words out-loud, she risked opening her mouth to say, "You only did what you had to do. Besides, I really didn't want Jill to be angry at me for not being punished."

He could understand that that was the way a young mind worked, and he appreciated the fact that she was honest enough to just tell him that she didn't let him do it completely because she felt bad about what had happened, but also because of what Jill might do if she hadn't been spanked for her misdeeds.

"Very well, then. All cried out?" The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. They sounded like he was sneering at her, mocking her for crying and wasting his time. But she hadn't been embarrassed or hurt by the question, and had simply nodded with a small smile. Then she'd even proceeded to do something which had scared him half to death and flung herself at him, hugging him tightly around the middle.

He'd offered comfort to Alex before, but had been refused. This was different. This time he had offered comfort, indeed, but she had gone out and impulsively and, dare he say, childishly, clutched him like a lifeline.

He felt sick and ecstatic at once.

* * *

Erik ignores the foul look Noah sends his way as the boy picks his little sister up and holds her close, promising to make her pancakes the following morning as recompense for not looking out for her. The man smirks when he hears the youngling groan and insist that it wasn't Noah's fault, nor was it anyone's fault, but if anyone _were_ to blame, it would be her for being ir-re-responsible with her powers. He glowers at Noah's response that 'stupid Erik' had made her think such downputting thoughts and decides that he might need to have a word with Charles.

But not at this particular moment.

He heads over to the garden and sits down on one of the comfortable lounge chairs, breathing in the warm afternoon air (it smells like sunlight). He shuts his eyes and tries to relax his senses, to melt back into the cotton pillow cradling his neck securely, to forget the fact that he actually signed up for this whole mess.

"Oh. You're out here."

Ah, Alex; the boy with anger issues which he obviously does not feel like even attempting to mask. (An attention seeker, then.)

"Join me," Erik replies, more open to meeting those ends the boy seeks to have met than to bite back some reply that would no doubt make him come back with bigger guns to get the attention he feels he deserves.

"Sean's waiting for me upstairs. Unless, of course, you guys would rather keep us separated so we can't concoct any stupid ideas? Would you rather I keep the door open, just in case?" the teen asks in a sickly-sweet tone of voice.

"Well, if it's all the same to you..." Erik drawls, changing his position slightly to get a little more comfortable.

Alex huffs and balls his fists, but doesn't say any more. Erik cracks open an eye to watch the young man walk off with a chip on his shoulder, certainly, but lacking that usual gait of an affection-deprived person. He seriously needs to talk to him about opening up.

"That kid is gonna' be the death of me yet," the Metal-bender grumbles, craning his neck a little to avoid excessive sunlight.

Charles walks out and joins him outside, taking the vacant lounge chair beside his. He extends an arm and holds out a glass of whiskey, which Erik takes gladly. Taking a long sip of his own drink, the labrat turns toward him with a cheeky smile and asks, "Still consider yourself a father-figure for him?"

Erik turns away and takes a gulp of his own drink. "Actually, labrat, I take pride in sticking to my decisions."

"So you won't be letting go of this whole 'labrat' thing, either, then?"

"No."

"Even considering the fact that Henry is the one who occupies the lab the most these days?"

Erik grunts into his glass and shakes his head.

"Right then."

The metal-bender turns to stare at Charles when the other watches Sean soar through the sky. He considers bringing up the fact that Noah was trying to convince his little sister that there was no harm done whatsoever when she'd made a slip up (pun intended) with her powers. But looking at Charles' face right now, he decides it would be better to let the matter rest and settles back a little to gaze at the other more comfortably. Those magnificent, blazing blue eyes, that perfectly straight nose, those bowed, cherry-red lips... Wait, what? Was he seriously thinking about the labrat? In that way? Something must be wrong with him.

He averts his gaze and settles it on Sean, who's running up to the pair of them.

"Hey, prof, I was thinking... there's a concert coming up in a week or so, and they're selling tickets online. Alex and I really want to go."

"Have you finished training?" Erik questions.

"Yeah, just flew twenty laps." He turns back to the professor. "Can we?"

"Of course, Sean. On one condition, of course."

The youth's face falls at that news, but he manages to perk up a little to ask, "Condition?"

"You must follow our rules."

"Erm... Which are?"

"No drugs," Charles begins.  
"No sex," Erik puts forth.  
"No drinking excessively."  
"No taking people home with you."  
"No getting into random cars."  
"No leaving the grounds with strangers."  
"No fighting."  
"No coming home after curfew."  
"No... Hmm... I think that about covers it, don't you, Erik?"  
"Quite."

"Well, what's the curfew, then?"

"I think eleven's good," The metal-bender suggests.

"What?! That's crazy! Tell him it's crazy, professor!" Alex shouts from the upstairs window. Their necks protest when they twist them to look up at him, and the professor shouts back, "Why don't you come downstairs and we can discuss this?"

A minute later the blonde is standing outside beside Sean, who glares at him.

"I doubted letting you do the talking would really cut it," Alex explains, able to read the expression on the redhead's face.

"Eleven-thirty then?" Charles tries.

"But the thing's only over at _twelve_-thirty. And then there's the whole mess of getting out of the place and driving back."

"One thirty, boys. A minute later and you'll both be extremely sorry."

They high-five each other and grin at Charles. "Thanks, professor!" Sean says, and Charles gives his shoulder a fond pat. Alex leans in for a quick, manly hug (a swing of an arm and a fist to the shoulderblade, really, but hey they're men), reiterating, "Thanks, prof!" before heading back inside with a, "You the man!"

Charles leans back and sighs. "I will no doubt regret this when they both come back too late and have me worried sick."

"As long as they don't return with needles protruding from their arms, there will be no cause to worry," Erik replies calmly.

He can't help taking another glance at the man beside him. He wouldn't call him 'beautiful', necessarily, but he's definitely got something that's more than just attractive about him. There's something pretty, something mystical, something... not-so-rugged, not-so-rough-edged, not so... not so Erik.  
Ah, but how does the saying go? Don't eat with shits?

"It's don't shit where you eat, actually."

He turns quickly, nearly getting whiplash from his surprise.

"And it's not like we're eating out here."

"E-Excuse me?"

Charles downs the rest of his drink and levels him with a look. "You heard me."

Erik is completely dumbfounded at this revelation. _So... Charles shows an interest in me?_

"Yes, Charles shows an interest in you," the floppy-haired Mutant repeats, smirking. The way he imitates Erik's thick accent is quite cute, actually.

The metal-bender doesn't know whether to be anxious or terrified or happy or excited or all of the above. Charles seems to help him, there, because the other man leans forwards and captures his mouth in a soft kiss, effectively putting a stop to all of his raging emotions. The only thing he can think, the only thing he can _feel_ is _Charles_.  
When the other pulls back, he pushes forward and claims the man's lips once more. There is no telling what will happen after it's over, so he might as well make it last as long as he possibly can.

When they finally part for breath, he catches a quick, nervous smile from his labrat and realizes that he's come back to his senses.

"That was silly of me. Beg your pardon." The brunette ducks his head and moves to stand up, but Erik catches him by the wrist.

"Indulge me, just this once, Charles." He can already imagine the things that must be going on in professor X's head, and just in case he might come snooping in his own head to make sure Erik means his intentions, he tries his hardest to make it a safe, comforting haven for the other to find his answers in. He wants Charles to know that he would never say something like that without meaning it, would never make fun of him for something which he can't control.

"You do realize the gravity of your words, my friend?"

"Sit down," he replies, and the other complies, and Erik crawls over to exercise his new talent and romanticise. Too much rhyming in there, for sure.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

* * *

"Pet, I think it's time for a talk."

Noah looks up at the professor, confused. He still isn't too fond of the prof's nickname for him, but he doesn't utter it out-loud and asks instead, "About?"

"Come."

Charles leads him to his study and makes him sit down on the couch before taking a seat in the recliner in front of him.

After a couple of weighty seconds, the professor goes straight for his goal, sparing both of them the commonplace pleasantries. "You're a really good brother, Noah, so don't think I'm critisizing your every move with Abigail."

"But?"

"You've been less than respectful toward Erik of late."

"Yeah, well, he hasn't been sunshine and daisies lately, either."

"I admit he's been acting childish by indulging this back-and-forth tug-of-war with bickering and brusque comments, but you must understand that the source of this dispute is your anger towards Erik for punishing your little sister in a manner you find unjust."

"I don't disagree with you, Charles."

"Good. Because I'm here to tell you to let it go."

"Let... let it go?" Noah repeats, not above hiding his irritation.

"Yes, pet. Erik only did what was right. Abigail made a mistake and felt guilty about it. She basically asked Erik to punish her, and he complied. There is no reason for you to hold on to this aggression towards the same man who brought Abby back to you."

Noah stands up. "Are you kidding me?! I mean, I understand how you can see his point and all, but are you really going to tell me to just 'let it go' just like that?! Can't you just let me feel what _I_ **want** to feel and leave it at that?! Why must you defend him when he was being nothing more than a savage brute?!"

"A savage brute?" Charles reiterates monotonously.

"Yeah. No man could punish a seven-year-old like that without being either a savage or a brute. Considering the fact that he did it even after I told him quite clearly that I disagreed with it, makes him a savage brute."

"I must say, Noah, of all the things I thought you would think of me, I did not count being a 'savage brute' as one of them."

"Not you, professor," Noah hastens to reply, not wanting to hurt the prof's feelings, "Erik."

"I am aware of who you were referring to, my boy, but I'm not so sad to say that I am, in this respect, quite like him."

Noah's mouth drops open. "What?"

"If I believed your sister to be more comfortable with me than Erik, I would have done the exact same thing. As a matter of fact, Noah, I have spanked a member or two of this household, before."

"You _what_?!"

"If you have a problem with this, I'm sure we can find a way to work it out. Unless, of course, you've crossed the line. In which case I'm afraid your fate lies entirely in my hands."

He catches the playful grin Charles tosses his way, but he can't return it. There is no way he can let the professor charm his way out of this one.

"You can't be serious! That's _absurd_! I'm fifteen!"

"Age matters not to me. Well, unless you're older than I am. Seems kind of inappropriate." Charles seems to be mulling something over in his head before turning his attention back to the ebony-haired boy sitting across from him. "Anyway, my point here is that you can be twenty-one and I would still reserve the right to discipline you in any manner I see fit."

"And I would have no say in this at all?"

"You already do!" Charles answers with a smile. "You can make sure you do _not_ cross that line and I can assure you that your bottom will remain in tact!"

"Would you stop being so easygoing about all of this?" Noah hisses. "There are some of us who do not talk as freely as you do about things like this!"

"See, that's where I do not understand the youth of today. How can you easily spout obscenities like 'fuck' and 'cunt' but you can't manage to say or even hear the word 'spank'?"

The little half-stutter on 'cunt' made even Noah suck his lips in a little. He knows it's a horrible word, but he also knows that when he is really pissed off it can roll off his tongue with ease. However, the same can not be said for... well. That.

"I don't know, professor. It just seems... it just seems so utterly humiliating." He hopes Charles can tell how much courage he had to muster up before being able to say this with a straight face.

"Ah, now I see where your issue lies with Erik." Charles stands up and sits back down again beside his ward. "Pet. Listen to me. Your little sister's dignity remains intact. That's the beauty of being so young; she hasn't gone through all of the emotional teenage phases you have."

"I haven't-"

"Hush. It's perfectly normal. Look, Noah, the truth, plain and simple, is this: she was relying on someone to punish her for her transgressions, small as they may appear to you. She was in no way humiliated by getting these just desserts and Erik did not seek to punish her through degradation. She's a seven-year-old who desperately needs someone to be there for her through thick and thin. Do you understand me, Noah? She needs someone to be there for her at her best, but also at her worst... Just like you."

"Me?" Noah repeats, disbelievingly.

Charles gives him a knowing smile and claps him on the shoulder. "You, chap. Now, if you wish to spend some time with Abby before it's her bedtime, you should hurry upstairs."

Noah nods and stands up, heading for the door.

"Oh, and Noah."

"Yes, professor?"

"If you want me to stop calling you 'pet', you need only ask."

Still a little miffed by the fact that Charles went into his head to get this information, he mutters, "Yeah," before turning around again.

"And by the way, Noah, I did not rack your skull to get this information. It was written all over your face."

He lets go of the doorhandle for a moment to say, "It's not true. I mean, that I want you to stop. I don't- I don't mind, really." With that, he exits the room as quickly as possible, intent on cooling his flaming cheeks before anyone notices.

* * *

The following day

* * *

Hank is standing outside in the cool breeze, giving his feet some air and time away from his pinching shoes. The foot-hands curl and uncurl against the soft grass and he breathes in the scent of pine and maple. A flash of fur shoots through the bushes a couple dozen metres away and he goes straight for it, realizing only once he's standing right in front of the terrified bunny rabbit that he'd _seen_ it move just an inch from approximately twenty-five metres away. He picks it up by the scruff of its neck and smells the fear rolling off the little animal. Cuddling it to his chest, he hushes it gently, whispering kindnesses in its ear.

"I won't hurt you, little tyke," he says, smiling kindly. It presses its little wet nose against his finger and he indulges it, letting it nip gently before it draws back completely and tries to scrabble for purchase in his arms, obviously set on getting back on the ground again.

"Is that a bunny rabbit?" a little voice says from somewhere near him and he turns around quickly to see Jill standing there, watching the little brown ball of fur with round, excited eyes.

It takes him a moment to take note of the fact that she's talking to him, and not about Sean. Seeing this as an open and a way to get her to open up to them a little more, he crouches down in front of her and smiles invitingly at the girl. "Yeah. Would you like to pet him?"

She nods vigorously and comes a little closer, stroking the animal's forehead with a gentle finger.

"He's really cute," she whispers. "What's his name?"

"I actually haven't named him yet. What do you think his name should be?" He sincerely hopes she won't say 'Sean'.

"Something with an F."

"An F? Like Freddie?"

"No, more important."

"Like a regal name?"

"Yeah."

"How about Fitzgerald?"

"I like that," she says softly, giving him a shy smile. The cherubic face makes his heart melt and he smiles back at her. "Would you like to hold him?" he offers. She nods again, and he holds the rabbit out to her. "Be careful, now. You don't want to frighten him."

"Mm!" she agrees, and carefully takes over his hold on the critter. The armload is heavy for her and she sits down to let it sit on her lap. "Hello, Fitzgerald," she whispers, "I'm Jill. I'm a mutant. You're a bunny."

She looks up at Hank with smiling eyes. "Do you think he knows?"

"That he's a bunny?"

"No, that we're mutants. Maybe..."

"Hm? What is it?"

"Maybe he wouldn't want me to hold him."

"I think it's the exact opposite, actually," a voice from behind them states. Erik walks over to Jill and places his hand on her head. "I'm sure he would love being in the company of Mutants. Anyone would."

"Not everyone," Jill says quietly, gaze fixed resolutely on Fitzgerald.

"You're right," Erik concedes, "There are some idiots out there who are afraid of us, or wish to abuse our powers. But that's why we're training you kiddo's."

Jill sighs but nods and gets up with Fitz in her arms. "Can we keep him?" she asks, fully aware of the puppy-dog eyes she's using to try and convince Erik to say yes.

"Ask Charles," Erik replies, even though he probably knows that there's no way the man could say no to the little angel.

"She's going to be trouble, that one," Hank remarks.

Erik smirks and rolls his eyes. "You're clever," he snarkily replies.

Hank tries to control the way his heart races at the (half-assed) praise. He grins back at Erik and follows him back into the mansion, showing off his intelectual prowess by quoting a chapter of his Physics-for-aces book.  
He doubts Erik understands the fine art of Physics enough to actually be listening, but it feels nice not to have the man cut in with a 'Oh-for-the-love-of-all-that's-holy-please-stop-mo ving-your-mouth-and-making-those-sounds-come-out'. Very nice, in fact.

* * *

Alex watches Brainfoot and Metalman head for the house together and sighs, "Thank God those two get along. Now I won't have to spend any time with either one of them."

"Who?" Sean asks suddenly from behind him, walking up with a miniature basket ball held in one hand, his T-shirt laying somewhere forgotten.

"Rusty and the Brain."

"I thought you liked Erik," Sean says, lazily scratching his side as he settles back on Alex' bed and throws the ball against the wall, catching it when it bounces back at him.

"What?!" Alex fumes. "I _despise_ that guy!"

"Well, yeah, but that's not really real, is it?"

"What?!" he reiterates.

"C'mon, dude. Admit it, you just act like that 'cause you don't want to care for a guy like that. But you do."

"I couldn't give half a shit about a guy like that!"

"'Course not," Sean drawls sarcastically. "Look man, I know what you're thinking. And you're probably right. But what if he emisn't/em that type of person?"

"He is," Alex states, seriously.

"But what if he _won't_ leave?"

"He will. Trust me on this one, Seanie-boy. I've been bounced between families in foster care enough to recognize his type for what they are. He won't stick around. They never do."

"A'ight," Sean replies, ever the pacifist.

Alex watches the way the muscles in Sean's arm work when he catches the ball and throws it again. He loves the way the sunlight plays on the other Mutant's copper-red hair, loves the way it shines like glossy magazine paper. He loves the way Sean smells of grass and cigarette smoke, and how he always seems to leave the actual _thinking_ up to him, like he's really smart enough to figure the big things out.

"Would you cut that out?!" he snipes, enjoying the sight of a recoiling Sean, enjoying the sight of a tension-knotted tummy, doe-eyes flicking curiously up to his face to see what he did wrong.

Sean gets up and tosses the ball once in the air and catches it in the palm of his hand before throwing it onto Alex's pillow and sighing as he leans back against the wall.

Feeling guilty, Alex reaches for the pack of cigarettes he keeps in the back of his third desk drawer and pulls it out, hitting the back of it in order to slide one out. "Fag?" he asks, and he wonders if the way Sean's head snaps up like that is because he is really desperate for a cig or if he was 'outed'. He desperately hopes it's the latter.

Not that he's a fag. He's not some ridiculous homo. He would just really like it if Sean liked him.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

* * *

Adaption.

That is key. That's what you need to be normal. You need to have complete control over this sentiment in order to be as plain and dry cracker boring as everyone else.

Sean never believed himself to be one of those people who had trouble laying low. He was never much more than 'that carrothead' or 'red'. He'd taken note of his slot in life and slid into it with ease. That is not to say that he didn't have any accidents. Once in a while he would get caught smoking pot or breaking open the lock on a door of some old warehouse where he could scream his guts out if he wanted and not have to worry about how many windows he broke in doing so.

Not getting noticed was a trick. Not getting notices only had a win-win situation as outcome; you didn't have to expect anything from anyone else and they never expected anything from you. This way, he couldn't mess up anyone else's lives, and they couldn't mess up his. Simple as that.

The moment he entered the huge mother of a mansion, he knew he would have to rely on his old tricks and adapt. He'd been meaning to observe Darwin when it came to this particular can of worms, but alas, the boy's name seemed to be derived from his mutation and nothing more. No matter, he'd supposed, he could still observe the others and see how they did things.

He'd noticed how the scientist, Hank, seemed to be doing the same thing as him, only with a little more dignity. He seemed to be pretty clear with his observations, and would actually laugh guiltily when the prof told him he needn't come down for a cup of tea every morning just to please him, especially if he didn't even like tea.  
Sean would hide behind his mug of mint tea and try his hardest not to think of anything remotely close to screaming. He could feel his instinct to run bubble up, even though he hadn't done anythig wrong, and he couldn't possibly be caught observing an observer. Could he?  
Either way, Hank was either an overly dignified person, or he was pretty dense when it came to social situations. A little bit of both, Sean decided.

Alex was sort of like him in this respect. He could tell that the blonde Mutant didn't know how to talk to other people their age without having the words come out forced when he'd just arrived at the mansion. He knew that the other boy really didn't have a clue how to strike up a conversation so he hadn't made things any harder on him by acting like an oblivious prick. Instead, he'd asked simple questions like 'Sick painting, huh?' or 'Bathroom's down the hall, right?' to get him to open up to him slowly. When Noah had joined their little Mutie band, he could tell that Alex became uncomfortable once more and had endevoured to strike up the conversations with the new boy again, hoping that Alex would join in whenever he felt comfortable. He hadn't been let down.

* * *

"Hey, Gingerbread, hand me a coke would you?"

Sean turns around and glares lightly at the blonde sitting at the table. "Get it yourself."

"You're standing up."

"I'm busy making kettle corn. Takes precision work and shit."

"You know how to make kettle corn?"

"Yeah, it's really not that hard. You'd probs be better at it than me, what with the bulky arms and whatnot."

"Bulky arms?" Alex asks, and Sean could swear there's a hint of pride hidden somewhere in the other teen's voice.

"Mm, you could shake a pot with ease."

"Awesome. I've always wanted to be good at pot-shaking. Good to know I've got the base skills for it."

"Oh yeah, I could totally see how that would be someone's goal in life."

"No but seriously, hand me a coke."

Sean sighs and leaves the pop corn to pop in the pan for a few seconds as he heads over to the fridge, pulls out a can of soda, and tosses it (none too gently) at the blonde Mutant.

"Thanks gingerbread."

"Don't call me that."

"But you're so sweet," Alex teases, obviously just trying to rile him up. He decides not to be, just to show him.

"If you're not sweet to me you won't get any kettle corn," he says instead.

The way Alex pouts makes something glow hot in his chest and he turns back around to pick up the heavy pot and shake it.

"Let me do it."

"Nah, I've got it."

But the other boy is standing right next to him and sliding his arms over Sean's bare, freckled skin and he steps back a little, as though electrocuted, tugging the short sleeves on his T-shirt down a little as if that could ward off the prickles dancing and vibrating through his arms.

Alex doesn't seem to notice and just shakes the pot instead, looking sort of silly while doing so.

"Is that what I looked like?" Sean asks, chuckling.

"I'm sure I don't look like someone doing a crazy chicken dance," Alex says, smirking.

"Nah, you look more like the Joker from Batman imitating a fish."

"How long am I supposed to do this for, anyway?"

"Uhm, about thirty seconds I think."

"'Kay."

He gazes at the blonde from beneath long copper strands of hair and follows every move the other makes. He loves and hates how strong Alex is. On the one hand, it's good to have someone strong who will always have your back. On the other, it's kind of intimidating and frightening.

"Like what you see?" Alex asks, smirking. He sets the pot back down on the fire and Sean scoffs.

"You wish, pretty boy."

"So you think I'm pretty?"

"The way a little girl would say a doll is pretty."

"Did you just refer to yourself as a little girl?"

Sean playfully punches Alex's shoulder.

* * *

Hank walks in with a coloring book under his arm and a box of pencils in the other. He spots Jill on the couch in the living area, watching the screen as Abigail flips through the stations, mesmerized by all the different channels. The older girl sees Hank and blurts, excitedly, "Did you know that they have these shows where they film people doing stuff with hidden cameras and they don't know they're being watched?"

"I'd gathered that from the fact that they're hidden, but yes, I did know."

Her smile falters a bit, but she doesn't let it fade off her face completely and says, "They also have this science show you would really like."

"Cool," he replies, smiling back and turning his attention to the little girl sucking her index finger boredly. "Brought you something from the gas station," he says.

Jill's eyes light up like a million tiny stars have been sucked into them and she flings her arms around Hank's neck. "Thank you," she whispers in his ear, so delighted that he'd remembered that she's always wanted a coloring book.

"I saw on the back that there are also some blank pages where you can draw anything you want."

She smiles even sweeter and immediately opens the box of crayons to start drawing.

"Hey Hank, do you want me to show you which channel I mean?" Abby asks from the other end of the couch. He perches himself between the two kids and leans back comfortably. "Sure thing, kiddo."

Abby's face lights up and she switches to National Geographic, peeking over at Hank to see his reaction, but he's leaning over Jill's shoulder to show her how to sharpen a pencil. Abigail sighs but waits patiently for him to turn back and look at the screen.

"You have to twist it, you silly bird," the young adult says, laughing. He guides Jill's hands through the motion of sharpening a pencil and Abigail huffs and gets up, deciding that perhaps it isn't worth the wait.

When she doesn't hear anything along the lines of 'Where are you going?' she exits the room and goes upstairs to find her big brother, hoping he might make her feel a little better.

* * *

"Hey, I never said I wouldn't start."

"Doesn't it seem like something that would be expected in a household like this?"

"Professor, to be fair, I don't think you could slot a household like this one anywhere."

"I admit we might not be as... ordinary, as other family units, but that doesn't mean we would tolerate such actions."

"It was just a cigarette."

"Noah. No smoking – that's final."

He heaves a sad sigh. "Alright, Charles. Gotcha'."

The older Mutant ruffles his hair. "Good boy," he praises, and a deep red colour flushes Noah's cheeks.

They hear the door to the study opening and Noah stiffens instantly.

"Abigail, to what do we owe the pleasure? Oh, by the way, sweetheart, please knock next time."

The youngling looks down at the floor. "Sorry. I will. Uhm, I was just wondering if, uh, Noah would come and play with me."

Noah smiles and is about to tell her what a great idea that is when Charles shakes his head sadly, stating, "I'm afraid your brother is grounded to his room for the day."

"What?!" Noah utters, taken away completely.

The professor claps his shoulder and states, "Punishment for smoking." He takes the little girl's hand and walks her outside. "Perhaps you could go through that Spanish-English dictionary," he proposes, flashing the boy a quick, smug smile, before shutting the door behind himself.

"Ugh, great."

* * *

Jill likes Hank's company. He's not loud, like Alex, and he's also older than Sean and therefore even wiser. She likes the way he explains things slowly, as if he knows that it takes a whole lot out of her to focus on what other people are saying without covering her face and hiding away.

"Henry, would you like to go over those Chemistry papers now?" Charles asks, walking in with Abby. Jill likes Abby, but she gets the feeling the other girl doesn't really like her very much. She wonders if it's because she got punished because of her.

"Sure. I need to speak with you about Alex's performance, as well. It's not abysmal, but he clearly isn't interested in Science at all. In any shape or form. Chem, Phys, none of it interests him in the slightest."

"Hm. Perhaps I should speak with him about that."

"I would appreciate it if you did, professor. It's either you or me, and we both know what he thinks about me."

"Oh?"

"You know... He believes I'm too young to teach him anything."

Charles actually laughs. "Don't worry about that, my boy. I'm sure his reasoning is not as petty as that. I'll have a word with him and wrestle out the truth. I think you'd be surprised to hear what he really thinks about you."

"What do you mean, professor?" Hank asks as they head downstairs toward the lab, but Charles seems to reply something noncommittal and whatever comes after that is muffled by the thick walls.

Jill looks up from her coloring book to find Abigail flipping through one of Raven's magazines boredly. She holds out her box of pencils and the book, waiting for Abby to look up and take notice of them. When the other girl does, she detects a sneer on the seven-year-old's face.

"What, you want to show off your new things? Great, good for you. Wow, Hank spent like, what, five bucks on ya'. You should feel real special now."

Jill shakes her head and opens the book at a random page, stretching out the arm holding the pencil box even farther.

"Yeah, you coloured that in very impressively," Abby snorts derisively, looking back down at some sort of ad for lipsticks, pulling her legs up close to her body.

Jill looks down sadly, certain now that Abby hates her.

* * *

Raven twists the lid on the nail polish shut with a gleesome smirk. "Y'know, Sean, I never thought you'd agree to this."

He wiggles his toes without looking down at her, taking a drag from their shared joint, instead.

"Alex is too busy wanking off to do stuff."

"He does seem the type to play with his wiener all day," Raven remarks, plucking the joint from his long fingers and inhaling a little too sharply. She coughs a little as she exhales, asking, "Didn't you get punished for smoking this stuff?"

"Jeez, no secrets in this house," the redhead grumbles. "Yeah, your brother went all apeshit on me."

"He spanked you, didn't he?" she asks around the rolled paper, touching up the neon colours on Sean's toenails. Each nail is a different colour, though they're all glaringly bright and matching. She's not stupid enough to put yellow polish next to red.

Sean sits up on his elbows and gives her a measured look. "Now where would you get that idea?"

"Please. I know Charles. He once blistered my butt for lying to him about where I was going. Granted, I told him I was going to a sleepover at my friend's house when I was actually going to a night club, but to be fair, I was planning on sleeping over at her place if he hadn't caught me."

"How'd he catch you?"

"Y'know, I still don't know. He just figures this kind of shit out. The all-knowing professor dude, you know?"

"Yeah, okay, I hear ya'. So what makes you think he did that to me?"

"It's weed," Raven deadpans, and he glares at her.

"Then why did you ask me to join you? You know I got punished for getting baked, and you also know that he magically catches you in the act of doing something like this. So why?"

"Couldn't get caught doing it alone, could I? Besides, everyone else in this house is too pussy to do stuff with me. I need a girl friend my age to do stuff with. I want to gab about Archie comics and do her nails and argue with her when I get bored."

Ignoring the first bit, Sean rolls back down onto the bed, holding his hand out for the blunt and taking a long drag when she hands it over. "I let you paint my toenails," he points out.

"That's 'cause you're a real trooper. Thanks Seanie." The female mutant stands up and kisses him on the cheek before pulling back and morphing into Erik.

"Do you think this is appropriate behavior?!" He/she asks when the door suddenly opens, but instead of revealing her brother, it's Alex who stands in its opening. The boy sits down on the bed next to Sean and pulls the stick from his fingers, sucking on the short object angrily and standing up to open the window and spit out of it after he exhales.

"Uh, gross," Raven remarks.

Alex glares at her and says, "Switch back. It's frustrating to see him more than I have to."

"What are you talking about?"

"Raven, I know it's you. First of all, you smell like pot, and not in a you-were-standing-in-a-room-with-a-pot-smoker-for- two-seconds kind of way, but the actual smoking way. And secondly, you just said 'Uh gross'," he says, imitating a high-pitched girly voice.

"'Sup, dude?" Sean asks from his spot on the bed, still staring at the ceiling.

"I overheard Bigfoot and the prof talking. About me."

"Uh-oh," Raven giggles.

"It's not funny. Bigfoot was totally snitching on me. He told Charles that I suck at Science shit, the asshole. And then Charles told him that I didn't disrespect his authority, but that I was actually jealous of the fact that he knows all this shit! Can you believe the fucking nerve on that guy?!"

He inhales sharply and grins the tiny butt on a wayward piece of carton from some or other box of whatever, exhaling through the window and using his powers to burn the piece of carton to cinders above the trashcan.

"Oh, cool, you can control that way better," Raven praises, and Alex gives her an irritated look.  
"Yeah, whoopie. Now, can we please get back to the whole 'your brother's a douche' thing?"

"Hey! First of all, never call my brother a douche! And second of all, he's right. You emare/em jealous. Everyone knows it."

Alex turns to glare at Sean. "So you think this, too?"

Sean shrugs. "I dunno'. I know _I'm _ kinda' jealous of Hank. He's really smart, you know. Went to Harvard or something like that at fifteen. When I was fifteen, I was still folding paper airplanes and shit."

"I'm not asking about you, Sean. Do you think _I'm_ jealous of him?" Alex pushes, having already figured out Sean's noncommital manner of answering questions he thinks could get him into trouble.

"Well, you do call him names."

"So?!"

"So you would only call someone names if they seem intimidating to you, wouldn't you? I mean, isn't that like a way to get them to seem more, well, on your level?"

"So you think Hank's on a higher level than I am?"

"I think you think Hank's on a higher level than you are. Which he isn't. It's just a different one." Sean groans as he sits up. "I'm starving for skittles. Wanna' go raid the cupboards?" he offers, and Raven nods back at him.

"Alex? You coming?"

The blonde teen sighs but gets up from his perch on the windowsill and follows them downstairs, still mulling things over.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N**: And now, the moment you have all been waiting for...

* * *

**Chapter 17**

* * *

First, he is hit by the stench of intense fear. He hacks into the stump with his axe and leaves it there, turning around and trudging through the woods with the claws on his left hand out. The second thing he takes in his the sound of hysterical breathing. His eyes travel through the woods, scanning for a sign of life. In the end, he can trust his ears better, and he follows the frantic beating of a young heart. He wonders at first if it's a fox or some other critter, but the breathing is too loud, too _human_ for that.

And then he finds the little pup. The boy is small and curled into a tight ball behind a fallen tree. The child also has bandages wrapped around his head, covering his eyes. He moves closer to kid, slowly, trying to be as loud as possible.

The boy's frantic breathng hitches even more and his head snaps up, moving from side to side as though judging where his attacker is coming from.

"Hey, kid," he says, trying to make his gruff voice sound a little civilised. He's certain that he's failed in doing so.

"Who're you?" the boy asks between gulps of breath.

"The name's Ja-Logan," he replies, getting a little closer. The boy instantly brings his arms up to defend himself. "I ain't gonna' hurt you kid."

"W-w-what do you w-want?"

"Well, fer starters, I'd like to know what yer name is."

"I-I'm Scott. Scott Summers."

"An' how old are you, Scott Summers?"

"T-ten."

"And where are your parents, kiddo?"

"Dead."

"Right. Alright. Err, yeah, so..." He wonders whether he should just call the feds and tell them he spotted a kid in the woods and just head on home, but the boy is obviously in distress.

"I ran away from mr. O'Diamonds. He-he was gonna' hurt us and we-we ran, but Katie went to live with her uncle and I, I didn't know what to do so I just kept going, but now I don't know where I am."

"You're in Canada, boy," Logan replies, trying to speak as calmly as possible, hearing the painfully rapid beating of the kid's small heart in his thin, wiry chest.

"C-Canada?"

"Do you have any other family members you can contact?"

Scott shakes his head, looking down at the ground.

"No one at all?"

"No." The reply is wet and choked and Logan wouldn't be surprised if the boy's eyes are filled with tears.

"Alright, c'mere pup." He reaches out and scoops the boy into his arms, ignoring the way he stiffens up and tries to fight off the big, bulky man. "I already told ye, kid, I ain't gonna' hurt ya'. The boy feels way lighter than he'd expected from a ten-year-old, but then again, he hasn't met many ten-year-olds, and by the look of things, this one's pretty malnourished.

"How long's it been since ya ate, kid?"

Scott shrugs. "Since before I left. I wanted to pick some berries or something, but..."

"Yeah, wouldn't've turned out great if ya ate the wrong color," Logan agrees, sympathizing with him. He carries him back to his shack and places him in front of the fireplace as he lights it. He's able to take a better look at the boy, now, and notices several scratches on his pale arms, along with old scars and bruises. The T-shirt he's wearing is muddy and torn, and so are his jeans. The boy's hair is chocolate brown and in a disarray, covered in dirt and leaves and whatnot.

"Ya need ta get cleaned up, kid. Yer a mess."

Scott tilts his head downwards and nods. He seems to be apologetic about his appearance, but Logan will have none of that. He picks the boy up and slings him over his shoulder, heading toward the kitchen with him and setting him down on the counter. "Food first. I'll get the water." He goes to heat the water over the fire as Scott rubs at his arms self-consciously. Logan heads back over to the boy and hands him a piece of bread as he cuts up some cold left-over meat from lunch. "Here." He puts the plate on the boy's lap and backs off to sit on the couch.

He's not a kid person – at all – but there's something about this boy that demands protection. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that it's probably the fact that he's blind and covered in bruises.

He watches the pup stuff pieces of meat into his mouth like he's only just realized how hungry he really is and smirks at the sight.

* * *

"Chin down."

Alex ignores Erik and continues hitting the stuffing out of the punching bag. He's certain there's a frown on the man's face, but he couldn't care less.

"Your footing's off."

Again, the blonde Mutant ignores the older male, picturing the punching bag to be the Magnet Man himself.

Erik sighs and walks over to him, holding the punching bag still for him to go all out on. But instead, Alex pulls back and undoes the strap on one of his gloves with his teeth, glaring at the man before walking off and tugging the other glove off as well.

"What is up with you? You act like I'm your worst enemy."

"Well, right now, you kind of are."

"That's idiotic. I'm a Mutant. You're a Mutant. Are you really going to turn on your own race?"

Alex huffs angrily, turning around to face Erik and snarling, "Could you fuck off with all this Mutie Pride shit?! No-one really cares about this 'sticking together' business, anyway, so you might as well stop going on about it."

Erik has him pinned within the second. "Do you require a reminder of your last session over my knee, Havok?" the man threatens, "Or do you think you could speak to me with the respect I deserve?"

"You deserve jack shit," Alex snarles, elbowing the older male in the stomach, which kind of gets him pressed face-down onto the ground.

"Why are you so adamant about upholding this 'bad boy' act? I realize you are displeased with me for punishing you, but you really need to find a better way to vent that anger, or you'll simply find yourself back in the same situation."

"No, you imbecile. It's not about the fact that I got punished, it's about the fact that _you_ did it! You don't have the goddamn right!"

"Really? Because I do believe I am one of your instructors here."

"And in which world does instructor equal parent?"

"The world wherein the instructor gets the student out of jail and agreed to raise him to adulthood."

"Agreed with _who_?!" Alex barks. [A/N: I know it's supposed to be 'whom', but it's Alex.]

"Charles Xavier," Erik snips back.

"Oh, I hadn't realized the professor was actually working for the state all along! Well, in that case, show me the adoption papers and I'll believe you."

"Don't be a prat. You know damn well that I don't need a piece of paper to do that."

"Do what?!" Alex shouts, frustrated.

"Be what you need me to be!" Erik replies, just as loudly ( if not louder ), and Alex goes still, giving up the fight and just lying there, quietly. Erik stares down at the boy as he puts things to rights inside his head, waiting patiently for the teen's reply.

"You...You must be joking," the blonde says after a long while of silence.

"I'm dead serious, Alex. I – I see something in you that I used to see in myself. And, well, the point is – argh!" Erik gets up and walks over to the window, leaving the other on the ground to gaze at him, confusedly. Alex realizes how hard it is for Erik to speak openly about his feelings, and somehow it makes him feel almost special that he's willing to try for him.

"The point is that I wish I'd had someone who was there for me before I went down the wrong path. I wish someone had been there to be what I needed them to be, be it a friend or a mentor, or even a parent. I needed someone to talk to, someone who could guide me and steer me on a straight path. I didn't have that because I was too focused on my goal to let anyone in. And I was also foolish enough to believe I would never need to let anyone in."

Alex gets up and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and thinking things over. When he opens his eyes, he walks over to the punching bag and pulls his gloves back on, determination shining in his blue eyes. Erik sighs and heads for the door, knowing a lost cause when he sees one.

"Well?" he hears Alex's voice from inside, and he turns around to see the teen standing there with a cocky smile and a glint in his eyes. "Aren't you going to 'mentor' me?"

Frozen on the spot for a few seconds, Erik unfreezes long enough to snort and retort, "Perhaps I shouldn't have signed on for this; you're going to need a lot of work."

"Well, what can I start with?"

The man taps his knee and Alex moves his leg back a little. "Your footing. Always make sure your stance is correct before you begin," Erik states, knowingly.

Alex finds himself smiling like an idiot by the time he's in the correct position, and he's pleased to note a kindred one on Metal Ma- Erik's face, as well.

* * *

**A/N**: So I know Scott's not really a part of the whole young band of muties in First Class, but he's such a cutie and I reeeaaaaally needed to add him because Cyclops is adorable. So I thought; 'what's the most adorable way to put him in the story?' You got it – make him dependable on his rival! Come on, don't act like it's not the cutest thing ever ;P


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Okay, so for the people who hadn't caught on, yet: I do a P.O.V. thing without putting the pov shit on top. So no, Jillybean isn't an evil kid, it's just the way Abby takes it.

* * *

**Chapter 18**

* * *

"What the hell?!" Abby screeches as she enters the den, only to find Jill scribbling on Raven's magazines. The magazines she'd loaned to Abby.

Jill looks up at the shrill sound, smiling shyly and holding up the magazine, showing it to Abigail as though really trying to piss the other off.

In truth the little girl hadn't done anything terribly bad – she hadn't colored over any of the words or destroyed any of the models' faces. She'd only colored the edges of one of the intro pages, framing the dull white with dusty pink. But the fact remains that Abby had borrowed something from Raven and Jill had ruined it, making it so that Raven could never trust her with her stuff again.

"Do you think this is normal?!" the dark-haired girl shouts, snatching the magazine from Jill's hands. "Do you think Raven's going to appreciate this?! Huh? Do you?!"

"What on earth is going on down here?" Charles asks, walking in.

Abigail holds the magazine up for Charles to see and points at Jill with her other hand. "She ruined it! And now Raven's going to be mad at me!"

"Sshh, calm down, Abby, it's not that bad."

"But it's all colored on," the seven-year-old insists.

The professor walks over to Jill, who's crying silently on the sofa, and places her on his lap, motioning for Abigail to come over and sit beside him. She does so slowly, upset over the fact that he would be nice to the one who got her into trouble.

"Let's see the damage, hm?" Charles offers, speaking calmly and softly and Jill peeks up at him from her hiding place against his shoulder. Ugh. Currying his favor with sweet looks. Little kids always take advantage of their big eyes.

"Well, Jill, it's not nice to draw on other people's stuff without asking."

Hmph! Indeed, Jill!

"But I don't think this is worthy of getting so upset over, dear. It's not one of the important pages, though which part of this magazine is important is sort of lost on me. Anyway, I'm positive Raven isn't going to be mad about it. In fact, I think she'll be pleased that you made it a little prettier. But in the future, darling, don't use other people's things without asking, yes?"

A few tears spill from the little girl's eyes and she nods, answering quietly, "Yes, Charles."

"Good girl." He hugs her tightly before turning his attention to Abigail, placing a warm hand on her head. "There's no need to be upset about it, Abby. I'm sure that if you would explain to Raven what happened, she wouldn't be angry at all. It wasn't your fault in the slightest."

"Why can't she explain it?" Abby pushes, because, to be fair, the girl is getting far too much leeway for a four-year-old, in her opinion.

The man seems a little put off by the question and she could swear that he's giving her a look that says, 'You know well enough why' but she wants him to say it out-loud. Admit that Jill doesn't have to face her problems head-on simply because she's too chicken.

"Because, Abigail, she's four, and you're the one who borrowed the magazines. But, Jill will go with you and she will apologize, won't you Jill?"

"Yes," the little girl whispers, looking down at her knees.

"Alright, problem solved." Charles stands up with a smile on his face and sends the two girls off to speak to Raven. He's got a whole other issue on his mind.

* * *

Erik smirks when he hears Charles stumble over the clutter he'd left in the garage and utter a mumbled curse.

"How could you be so messy?" the Brit asks, heading over to him with a can of coke. He comes out from underneath his car and accepts it gratefully, clicking it open and taking a long sip.

He still wonders how Charles got his hands on all of this equipment when he obviously isn't much of a 'DIY' kind of man. Either way, he's happy that he does, or he wouldn't have been able to fix old Rosa, which he's had ever since he had enough money to pay for her.

"It's a gift," he replies before taking another sip. "Besides, I can set it to rights within a second." He sets the coke down on the table and gets back underneath the car with a wrench. "Would you hand me the 50mm?" he asks after a while, and smiles when he hears the other male sputter about, digging through the toolbox and obviously hoping to find something with '50MM' written all over it in bright, neon letters. He rolls out from underneath the car and looks at the toolbox before stretching out his hand and summoning the wrench to it.

"Sorry, I wouldn't know the first thing about this stuff," Charles offers, and he replies with a knowing smirk, "Don't worry about it, labrat. I wouldn't know the first thing about bunsenburners or beakers or any of those ridiculous names you can come up with."

"Well I prefer the sound of 'erlenmeyer' over 'washer' or 'monkey wrench'."

"And I cannot, for the life of me, understand why."

"There's no need, my friend. Just tell me when you are in need of a refreshment and I'll bring something down."

"That's..." Erik swallows, thinking _'that's very kind'_ but unable to say the words aloud in case they might come across as dorky or stupid or _English_. "Thanks," he settles on in the end.

"You're welcome," Charles replies happily, and like that, the man exits the room, leaving Erik's heart pounding a little too quickly in his chest for comfort. Just when he thinks it's stopped its racing, though, a little head pops up beside his and he shifts back in fright, wondering how anyone could have slithered over to his side without him noticing.

"Hello Abigail."

She sighs and lays her head on her folded hands. "Whatcha' doing underneath a car, Erik?"

"I'm fixing it," he replies steadily, turning his attention back on the mass of wires and bolts above him.

"Cool." The word sounds deflated, and her expression is far too lackluster for Erik's liking.

"Would you like to help?" he offers, hoping it would excite her a little, but she just shakes her head and replies softly, "Not really. Sorry. Do you mind if I watch?"

"No, that's alright."

She does. She watches him for hours without speaking, or even moving all that much, before curling into a ball and falling asleep. On the floor. Under a car.

He uses his powers to elevate the car a little higher and set it down a little ways off before picking the girl up and heading up to her room with her. He wonders what could have made her so sleepy; it's not like she's sick or anything. Is she? Worry creeps into his chest as he settles her down in bed and feels her forehead for excessive heat. It feels a little warm, but not really panic-worthy, though he goes downstairs to fetch a thermometer just in case. By the time he's back upstairs, Abby is half-awake and rolling over in bed, pulling the sheets up to her chin.

"Abigail," he says, tugging on her shoulder a little so she rolls sluggishly onto her back, "would you let me take your temperature?" He surprises himself with his own question. It's not like she could really tell him no, and it's not like him to ask for permission before he does something. Yet something tells him she'll be more willing to comply if he asks nicely first.

She opens her mouth obediently and Erik places the device under her tongue, waiting for the beep when she closes it again. He pushes a strand of hair behind her ear and smooths his thumb over her shoulder as she gazes up at him without any real focus.

When he slides the thermometer out of her mouth again, it reads 102,1. "Hm. Take it easy for a little while, but you should be alright after a good night's rest. I'll take your temperature again in the morning."

"Erik?" Abby asks, peering up at him.

"Hmm?"

"Why does everyone like Jill more than me?"

The question catches him off-guard. "What? No-one likes Jill more than you."

"They do. Everyone. Even..." her eyes start to water but she pushes the tears back and finishes, "Even Charles."

"Silly girl," Erik chides as he smooths the furrow out of her brow, "Charles doesn't like Jill any more than he likes you. In fact, Charles loves you. Both of you."

"B-but what if he doesn't? What if Noah wants to sp-spend time with Charles a-and I can't be with him because Ch-Charles doesn't like me?"

Erik pulls the girl up into his arms, unwilling to let this go unsettled. "Now, you listen to me, because I will only tell you this once. You are a member of this household, and as such you will be loved as one. And you will be loved as an equal to everyone else under this roof. Understood?"

She nods her head and burrows her face into his chest. "Yes."

"Yes who?" he teases, tickling her side.

"Yes d- Erik."

He doesn't miss the stumble, but he doesn't call her out on it. Instead he ruffles her hair and kisses her temple. In his mind, he calls for Charles to come to Abigail's room and not more than ten seconds later he hears hurried steps coming upstairs and toward them.

The door opens and he watches as Charles smiles kindly and heads over to them. "Are you feeling a little bit under the weather, sweetheart?" he asks, and Erik wonders how someone could think that this man doesn't like them when he calls everyone by such gooey pet names.

"Mm hmm," Abigail replies, pulling the blanket up a little.

"Well we can't have that at all. Would you like me to bring you up some tea?" Before she can reply, the man is downstairs again and concocting some sort of drought which will surely cure all. Erik smirks down at her and she smiles back at him before resting her weary head on his shoulder.

Charles enters the room again with Jill on his hip and a mug of steaming tea in his free hand. He places the tea on the nightstand and sets the four-year-old down on the ground. Jill tottles over to Abby's bedside with something held tight in her clenched fist. Erik pulls the girl up into his lap so she can take a better look at her 'sister' and Jill takes the other girl's hand before placing whatever was in her fist on Abby's palm.

"I'm sorry you feel bad," the four-year-old whispers before digging her fingers into Erik's legs.

Abby looks at the smooth, shiny stone in her hand, marveling at the little veins that run through it. "It's beautiful," she says, "thank you, Jill."

Jill smiles at her before looking away self-consciously. Meanwhile, Charles is running a soothing hand down Abby's back and coaxing her into drinking the tea. She hands the mug back to him when it's empty and he immediately starts fussing over her again.

"I'm okay, Charles. Just a little tired."

"Alright, we'll let you get some rest, then."

Erik walks out with Jill and thinks, quite loudly,_ She thought you loved the little one more than her._

Charles gives him a shocked look before looking down at the dark-haired young Mutant with big blue eyes and soft, pink cheeks. "Would you like me to read you a story to help you sleep, sweetheart?"

Abigail looks away for a second before looking back at him and nodding slowly. He gives her a charming smile before grabbing a book from the shelf and crawling into the bed with her on his lap, flipping the book open as she settles and snuggles back into his chest.

"There once was a princess," he begins, and Erik shuts the door behind himself, knowing that he's leaving the young one in good hands.

* * *

He'd only gone up there to send Alex to his own room. He hadn't planned on having his nostrils pick up on the lingering scent of pot, nor had he planned on finding the two of them wrestling on the floor.

"Say it again!" Sean snarles.  
"Faggot!" Alex barks back.  
"Rrgh!" The copperhead tosses the older boy off of him and leans forward to clock him one. Erik immediately intervenes and pulls the sixteen-year-old further away from Alex, keeping his hand on the blonde's shoulder to keep him from retaliating.

"Enough!" he growls, voice rising high above their sharp intakes of breath. "What on Earth do you think you're doing?!" he asks them.

Sean pulls out of his reach and attempts to stand up, wincing when he puts weight on his right leg and grabbing the desk chair for support.

"Sean's being a fucking prick!" Alex snarles, and Erik pulls him up so he can swat his behind with a resounding *smack*.

"Do not use words like that to describe your brother!"

Something flashes in Alex's eyes, but it's not the indignation he'd expected. He sees the way Sean turns away from him as well and wonders what exactly passed between the two Mutants before he entered the room.

"And why does it smell like pot in here?"

The two instantly glance up at him in shock and worry and he sighs, bringing his hand up to rub his forehead. "You two just couldn't be well-behaved for a _day_, could you?"

"Please don't tell Charles," Sean near-whispers, eyes bulging in fright, "he'll hate me if he found out I disobeyed him."

"Idiot. Charles could never hate you," Alex points out, not completely without derisiveness.

Erik swats his arm this time. "I told you not to call him names."

"It was meant with affection," Alex retorts, rolling his eyes irritatedly.

The metal-bender looks from one boy to the other with a questioning look. "So that just now was play-fighting?"

"Yeah," Sean replies, gaze fixed firmly on the ground, "just goofing off."

"Exactly," Alex confirms, but Erik doesn't miss the way he's leering at Sean. There's something going on between them, for sure, but he doesn't think he needs to worry about their health for the moment. Well, in terms of brawling. The weed, on the other hand, still needs to be addressed.

"Alright, this is how this is going to go down. Summers, you're going downstairs to talk to Charles about this drug incident, and you will hash it out and receive punishment and sulk in your room for a few hours until you decide your ego has healed enough to show your face again. Cassidy, you've already had the lecture so you needn't hear it again. I want you bent over the desk with your trousers down in ten seconds. Summers, I'm giving you twenty to find Charles and ten more to explain to him what happened. I'm checking in with him mentally, so adhere to my words."

When both teens just stare at him, stricken, he barks, "Get!" and they hasten to do as they were told.

* * *

A/N: Wanted some time for Alex to get snuggles from Charles and likewise with Sean 'n Erik. :)

Thanks for all the kind reviews, guys! I thrive on them :D


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

* * *

The kid is ill. Because apparently that can happen to children who run themselves ragged for days on end and haven't eaten in who knows how long and stumble across the border to Canada.

Logan doesn't know what to do with the boy curled up on his couch. He's obviously miserable and feeling horrendous, but it comes nowhere near the worry the adult feels wracking his body as he paces around the room, wondering whether they should wait it out or rush to the nearest hospital. He doesn't remember ever being ill, before. He doesn't remotely know how to cure sickness.

A wet cough directs his thoughts back to the present and he walks over to the kid, crouching down in front of him. He can smell that there's something wrong with the pup, but he can't pinpoint _what_ exactly, it is. And though he's ten, Scott doesn't seem to know any of the answers, either.

"It's cold," the boy whispers, having heard Logan approach him. The burly man wonders how it could be possible to feel so cold when you're seated in front of the fire with a heavy blanket draped around you, but he offers the small shoulder a sympathetic squeeze.

"I'll get you another blanket."

He brings a glass of water along with him, too, making the child drink it all before covering him with the second blanket and watching him drift off to sleep. The elder of the pair sits down beside him, on the ground, keeping a watchful eye over the boy as he slumbers.

* * *

Erik watches the tremors run up one of Sean's legs and sighs. "What happened to your leg?"

"I landed on it stupidly," the boy answers honestly. "I probably just pulled a muscle or something. It doesn't really hurt." His face says otherwise, but Erik won't point it out to him. "Alright, over my lap, then."

Sean looks troubled by the idea of going over the metal-bender's lap, but doesn't voice his chagrin and settles into position, obviously opting for the route of pliance in the hopes of getting back into Charles' good graces, knowing full well that if he puts up a fight with Erik, Charles will find out.

"I take it you were punished for this transgression once already?" Erik questions.

Sean clears his throat nervously and nods tightly.

"Very well, then." The man holds his hand out and summons a metal ruler to his palm, curling his fingers around it decisively. "This implement shall drive the lesson home a little better, I hope."

He doesn't let Sean protest and instead lights into the seat of the teen's jeans with brutal strength. The boy gasps and groans for the first twenty, but when it comes to twenty-one, he feels the youth tense up strenuously and go completely stiff as a board, pressing his fist into his mouth.

Better than screaming profanities at him like Alex, Erik decides. He puts the ruler down at thirty and gives him another ten on his sit-spots with his hand before stopping. Sean sniffles and stands up, swiping his hand across his eyes to remove the tears that had gathered there.  
But then Erik's senses pick up on the odd shifting of metal, before he actually spots the blood rolling down the Banshee's hand and plopping wetly onto the floor. He snatches the hand up and inspects it, identifying the deep grooves in the mangled flesh as tooth-indentations, before asking, "What's this?"

Sean seems to know better than to answer 'tooth marks' and shifts his weight awkwardly to his good leg. "I dunno', I... I couldn't, you know, make any noise or anything."

"Did I tell you that before I started?" Erik asks sternly, fixing him with a _look_.

"Well, no, but you shouldn't have to. I mean, it's _my_ mutation."

Now that makes much more sense. "Did Charles tell you you couldn't cry out?"

The teen looks even more nervous, now. "Well, no, but, well, y'know, I _can't_ actually blow his windows out. Besides, it's bad for your ears."

"Not if you keep it to a certain level. You control your voicebox, Sean. Like Charles said, it's a muscle – it's yours to manipulate."

"I guess I need to train more, then."

"No, Sean, I don't think that's the problem," Erik replies, looking back down at the boy's hand briefly before locking blue eyes with the other's blue-green. "I think this is the same as the alcohol. The same as the lemon juice. The same as your need to break a clear and simple rule laid down before you."

"What do you mean?" The younger Mutant tries to pull his hand back, but Erik holds onto it, dragging him along to the bathroom attached to the bedroom and running cold water on the indentations. Sean hisses but otherwise seems to soak up the soothing cold on his flaming skin.

"I don't know why you do this, Sean," Erik states, "but I do know that it's not healthy. And you need to talk to someone about it before it gets worse." Because Erik's seen worse. He knows what people become when they take their issues out on themselves. He knows what crazy looks like and he's not willing to see the redheaded young male become one of the people he's sworn to avenge.

The boy pulls his arm back, roughly. "I can handle myself," he growls.

"Apparently you can't," Erik replies back with a warning look. Sean shrinks back instantly, glancing down at his hand which has stopped bleeding.

"On another note," the older male continues, "I want to know what's going on between you and Alex. Because I _know_ that that wasn't play-fighting. He was pissed off about something you said or did and I want to know if it was justified or not."

"I-uh.. well..."

"Well?"

"I don't – I don't want you to think... I mean, I know he looks up to you, even if he says he doesn't. I care about him, y'know? He's like a brother to me." Tears gather in Sean's eyes and he turns away slightly to look up at the ceiling to clear them. Erik walks over and curls his hand around the back of the boy's neck. "I know, kid. And I won't judge him. I would never. Just tell me what was going on."

He has the sneaking suspicion that he already knows, but he needs to hear it in order to confirm his assumption.

It takes Sean thirty long seconds of swallowing and clenching and unclenching his fists before he looks Erik in the eye for a fleeting second, and another thirty seconds before the man grabs the teen's chin and searches his face to lock onto his gaze. He nods encourangingly at him, trying to coax out the truth.

"... He's gay."

Erik's heart sinks into his stomach and he wonders how madly it was racing in his chest before the truth finally came out of Sean's mouth.

"Did you make fun of him?" Erik asks instantly, firing a question before he can take in the shock of the news. To be honest, he hadn't expected it of the blonde teen in the slightest.

"No! Of course not! It's just..."

"Just what?"

"He wanted to... He tried to... that is uh..."

The metal-bender swallows with trouble. "Did he come on to you?"

Sean colours and nods slightly, staring determinedly at the floor. "But I'm not..."

"Wait. Then why did he call _you_ a fa- offensive word for gay person?"

"What? Oh, that... I don't presume to be in his head or anything, but... it seemed like he was trying to make me believe I was into him. And when it turned out that I wasn't, he just lashed out."

"You think he was angry at himself for having such feelings and took it out on you by accusing you of having those feelings, instead," Erik sums up, and is surprised by the way Sean looks up at him, shocked. Almost as if the teen wasn't expecting to be spoken to like an adult, like a decent brain that could help him figure out how his hotheaded boy was truly feeling.

"Uh... yeah, I guess," Sean flounders about for a decent response. He can tell the teen has become uneasy in his presence and wonders if it has anything to do with his attitude or if it's his physique. Or perhaps he just exudes the wrong vibes for the kid. Perhaps he should stop worrying about this kind of stuff and instead go find Alex after Charles is done with him and knock some sense into that thick head of his. And then perhaps just hold him for a while and admit to having the same weird thoughts running through his head.

"D'you think Charles is gonna' be pissed?"

Oh, right. Weed. Hm. Yes, Charles will most certainly be pissed. Will he stay pissed for long? Probably not. The labrat is too gentle-hearted to hold an overlong grudge. Unlike himself. He's the best grudge-holder he's ever met. Regardless of whether that's an actual word or not.

"Take cover and act cute, just in case."

Sean smiles and nods shortly before ducking out.

* * *

Somewhere over the course of the night, Scott had started shivering violently, and Logan had carried the boy to the bedroom in the small cabin, curling around the small body protectively and allowing tiny fingers to dig almost painfully into his arm, almost as though the boy were terrified of being left alone. He could sympathize with him, though, what with the blindness and all.

"Sir?" Scott whispers, and he's about to reply, "Just Logan, kid," but the child continues, "Think 'm gonna' be sick," and he cuts off every train of thought and opts for the quickest route out of the cabin, which, incidentally, is the window. Throwing it open and lifting the boy up to spew to his heart's content, he tries not to listen to the sickening splattering noises and instead focuses on keeping the boy lifted and steady. Only once he's absolutely sure he's finished regurgitating, Scott uncurls his fingers from the window-sill and turns instinctively back toward the burly man still holding on to him, burrying his face in the man's neck.

Logan soothingly pats the boy on the back. "I think it's time we contacted someone who knows a bit more about this kinda' stuff, pup."

Scott sniffles and shakes his head slowly, even though he knows there's no point in putting up a fight. The fact of the matter, which is that Logan has no idea what he's doing, remains. And if the boy knows one thing for certain, it's that you should always take care of illness as quickly as you can, before it develops into something worse.

"Yer gonna' need some warmer clothes. Then we'll head into town and go see a hopefully half-assed decent doctor." Because Logan shares his opinion on doctors. Not that he doesn't respect what they do, but the only doctors he truly remembers are the ones that were poking at him with needles and injecting anonymous drugs into his system without his consent. Oh, and mutating him. Best not forget that one.

* * *

Charles admits that he had really put his arm to work when correcting Alex' behavior, and that a part of that (a rather big part) had been because he was disappointed in Sean for betraying his trust. He keeps telling himself that the boy had simply _disobeyed_ him, because that sounds better than the alternative, but he can't help but feel hurt that the boy would say one thing and then turn around and do the complete opposite behind his back.

And perhaps Alex' backside had taken the brunt of that disappointment, but he figures Alex needs a firm hand to put him in his place, anyway. And besides, it had managed to bring the boy to tears, which he considers quite a feat, and that had allowed hugs and snuggling to ensue, which Charles most certainly requires after having to punish one of his kids.

_His kids_... Yes. They're his. And Erik's, too, to be fair, but they're _his_ X-men, his Xavier men, and he will not let them down, be it as a stern parent or a friendly helping hand. Which is why he won't release the young Summers boy as he tries to push away from him, swiping at his eyes absentmindedly and trying to act nonchallant about the proceedings.

"You're conflicted," he notes, and he feels the lie spinning to life in Alex' head before the blonde teen replies, "Of course I am, you just beat my ass."

"It's something else," he persists, and places his hand on the back of the boy's head. "You can tell me anything, you know."

"Thanks, Charles, but I'd prefer to keep this to myself."

He knows he can't keep the sadness from showing on his face, but he allows the boy his secrets, and smiles gently before nodding slightly and running his hand through short blonde locks. "Very well. I hope we don't need to go over this again any time soon. Or better yet, ever again."

Alex smiles back and replies, "No, sir."

"Right." He gives him one last hug before dismissing the boy. "You're excused, then. Oh, and if you happen to pass by Erik in the hallway, let him know I hope he beat that brat senseless."

Alex turns around to give him a startled look, but Charles smiles disarmingly at him, and he realizes the man was just joking. Well. Kind of.

* * *

Dressed in one of Logan's sweaters and his own pair of ripped-yet-washed- jeans, the boy tries not to flinch away every time the doctor pokes and prods at his body, sticking objects into his mouth and ears and humming to himself every time he comes to a certain conclusion. He wants to call Logan to his side, wants to ask him if he could hold his hand, but the big man doesn't seem to be one of those people who would allow him that weakness. So he sucks it up and breathes obediently in and out when something cold and circular moves across his chest and back, pressing against old bruises and scars.

"Mmhm," the doctor hums again, before withdrawing and letting him pull the huge sweater back down. He can't see the man's face, so he doesn't know whether it's serious or not, or even if he's eyeing him with a certain haughty suspicousness, judging his malnourished frame and odd garments.

"Mister Howlett, if you would speak with me in my office?" the doctor asks, leaving Scott on the medical table not far from the little office yet far enough not to overhear hushed tones. Logan passes a hand through his hair quickly before following the other man out but Scott isn't entirely soothed by the motion. If anything, he's scared now. Scared that Logan saw something he hadn't seen earlier, or read the doctor's face and realized that the boy was in deeper water than he'd initially presumed.

When they walk back out, though, Logan claps him on the shouder and says, "Okay kiddo', all done," like nothing's going on at all and he lifts him off the table before steering him into the doctor's office by the shoulder.

"Here's the prescription. The nearest pharmacy is just down the road. Can't miss it."

"Thanks."

And just like that, Logan pays the man and leaves with him, holding onto his arm as they head to the car. He tells him to wait for a few minutes while he gets some medicine from the pharmacy and Scott obeys, listening to the crunching of their shoes on snow that wasn't there thirty minutes ago and wishing he could see the flakes as they fell from the sky. To make up for his loss, he breathes on the window of Logan's truck and pulls his finger across the glass, drawing a smiley face and reveling in the knowledge that he couldn't have screwed it up because he used to do this _all the time_ when he was younger.

When Logan returns and gets in beside him, he instantly spots the design and remarks, "Practicing S.O.S signs, now? I only locked the car so no-one could get _in_."

Scott's face falls.

* * *

A/N: Dun dun duunnnn! So Alex is gay. Like you didn't know, yet. I wasn't sure about Alex/Sean but I decided I could write it so it would be totally awkward to have two pairings within the same family, but then with those comments I figured, heck, I could make it even more awkward and just have it be a one-sided thing. And _then_ I realized it would be the _most_ awkward if it were one-sided Alex/Sean instead of Sean/Alex. And _then_... I realized... more Alex-Erik fluff & cuddles because they're both so confused and conflicted and they're so torn up about everything.

So yeah... Let me know what you think :D Pretty please?


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: So sorry for the slow update, guys! I was gone on a school trip!

* * *

**Chapter 20**

* * *

"This is amazing!" Hank utters, looking at something or other through a microscope as Noah leans his head back on his folded arms, wiggling his knees a little. Honestly, all this over some scratch on his arm that had healed a little faster than Hank had anticipated?

"I can't believe it! Your cells! They divide so quickly!"

Noah remembers enough from fourth grade Biology to ask, "You can see that through a microscope?"

Hank flushes at the back of his neck and replies sheepishly, "You can if the professor is willing to lay down the funds."

"Ah."

"But seriously, this is incredible. Your cells fight off disease and unknown cells all by themselves. But you're not getting cancer... Your body must have created some sort of equivalent of antimitotic drugs by itself."

"So I can drink and not get drunk."

"Barrows, you seriously need a lesson in Biology. Get over here."

He sighs and gets up before dragging his body over to the scientist. "Look through this lense. What do you see?"

"Uhh... A lot of stuff."

"Do you see the process of DNA multiplication?"

"...Sure."

"Has no one ever taught you about mitosis and meiosis and-"

"Dude, I'm fifteen."

"Alright, next thing on your list of education is the study of deoxyribonucleic acid."

"What?"

"DNA."

"Then why don't you just say 'DNA' like a normal human being?"

"I take pride in knowing what things stand for. Anyway, my point is, your body is constantly creating new cells. Well, everyone's body is constantly creating new cells, but the thing is that yours does it that much quicker. Your old cells also die much faster. But that simply means that I can do this-"  
he pulls out a scalpel and slices Noah's palm with it before pulling back, ignoring Noah's shout of indignation and pointing at the wound as it closes up by itself.

"-And you would heal up by yourself."

"What the actual fuck?"

"And you thought the best part of your mutation was that you couldn't get drunk."

"Actually, I thought that was the worst part."

The older male shoves him playfully before turning back to his study of Noah's cells. "It's just so incredible! I wish I could take a sample and use it on a test subject but the problem is that you, for some odd reason, have this dummy antimitotic drug and other people don't. If I used your blood to try and heal someone else, they would probably get cancer."

"So... I have, like, HIV?"

Hank frowns. "You could call it something like that. Only more dangerous."

"So I have bad blood? I could kill people by bleeding on them?"

"You could give someone cancer by transferring your blood into another person's body, yes. Not just by bleeding on them. They would have to have an open wound an-"

"FUCK MAN! What if I hadn't known this any earlier?! This is insane! What if I had given my own sister cancer without realizing it?!"

"Relax, Noah. Mutation rests inside your body for a long while, dormant, before it actually manifests in its complete form. Raven didn't start transforming until she was fourteen. She remained in her blue state for a very, very long time, hiding in the shadows. Alex didn't start blasting energy until he was twelve, and only now he's learning how to control it. Your mutation probably started with not being able to get drunk, but after a while it started to manifest. For all we know, you could learn how to control it and perhaps even heal a person with your blood. We can't be certain of anything until we've seen everything that you're capable of."

"Then how about you, huh?"

"Eh, me?"

"Yeah. Alex tells me you have big feet. There must be more to it than that."

"Hm. Well. I'm not really sure."

Noah crosses his arms and looks at the older Mutant sideways. "You're lying to me."

"Why would I lie to you?"

"You're a scientist. You saw me accidentally cut myself with a kitchen knife and instantly came to the conclusion that it must be linked to my Mutation that I healed faster than normal people do."

"Well, it's kind of obvious when it heals that quickly, Noah."

"Still. It's bull that you would note that you have big feet and leave it at that. I know you've done tons of scientific test and shit on yourself. How come you can't tell me about them?"

"Because, Noah, I wasn't lying to you. The truth is, I'm not sure. I've noticed that I've got an enhanced sense of hearing and smell, but no more than that. Well, aside from that mishap in the forest."

"Mishap?"

"I'm overstating things. It wasn't a mishap, exactly."

"Just tell me already!"

"Jeez, hold your horses. Has no-one ever taught you patience?"

"You're testing it right now. Just tell me!"

"Alright, since you seem so interested in my private life," Hank says, smirking, "I caught Fitzgerald."

"You caught Jill's rabbit?" Noah repeats, raising an unimpressed brow.

"Yes. I hadn't realized that I'd seen it, or that I'd been running towards it, until I had it in my arms."

"Like... like you were hunting?"

"Sort of, yes."

"So... maybe you're like, a neanderthal."

"Har har. As hilarious as that remark is, I find you're testing my forgiving nature."

"Sorry. I know you don't like it when Alex calls you Bigfoot."

"Alex is an annoying dweeb who doesn't know any better. I expect more from someone like you."

Noah bursts into heavy laughter and it's Hank's turn to raise a brow. "You think I shouldn't expect much from you?"

"I think no-one says the word 'dweeb' with a straight face like you do," Noah splutters.

"Alright, alright. How about you go play with your sister or something, Barrows."

"Will do, Mc_Coy_."

When Noah exits the room, still chuckling and wiping his eyes to rid them of the moisture that had gathered there when laughing, Hank finds himself smiling fondly as he watches the boy leave, before glancing down at his feet and taking on a pensive look.

* * *

Raven gazes up at the ceiling, listening to familiar footstep-patterns in the hallway. She prides herself in recognizing and learning each one of them by heart in the time the others have spent in the mansion, and often finds herself morphing into one of its inhabitants and imitating their walk.

She's gotten quite used to it, over the years – hiding away in her room, that is. Sometimes she would get bouts of courage and self-certainty, causing her to crawl out of her room and appear in front of Charles in her natural form, only to be rebuked for it. Not for the colour of her skin, or the scales on her body. Just for the stark nakedness she'd grown accustomed to over the years of hiding away from the humans.

In some way or other, though, she would always be herded back into her room, where she would seek shelter and solitude.  
But not now, she decides, getting up. She does not have the time to dance around the room singing 'Call me maybe' in an effort to cheer herself up. She has some serious business to attend to. Serious business named Hank. Because if there's one person in the world who understands what it's like to want to change, it's the big-footed brainiac.

And so she flicks her hair over her shoulder and heads on down to the lab. And if she's humming 'call me maybe' then she's just a badass chick who needs a little something to keep a smile on her face once in a while. There's no excuse for the air guitar, though.

* * *

"I told ya to _stay put_!"

Scott turns his head up toward the sound of the man's voice, chewing his bottom lip worriedly.

"What's the deal, kid? I distinctly remember tellin' ya to plant yer ass on the couch and wait for me. What're ya doin' way out here?! Ya ain't even wearin' a jacket or nothin'!"

"I... I didn't want the medicine..."

He expects the man to yell at him that he'd better take it _or else_, but instead he seems to understand that the shivers running through his body are not (only) from the cold and asks, a little quieter this time, "Why not?"

"They always gave me medicine when they put fresh bandages around my eyes. I don't want to go to sleep and wake up not knowing what time it is or where I am an'... an'..."

"And yer scared o' me."

Scott looks down, shrugging. He's not really scared of Logan, but he doesn't completely trust him, yet.

"Don't sweat it, kid. You only put your trust in a handful o' people. That's a good quality to have. But seriously, get yer ass back inside and take your medicine. It's just a stomach relaxant and something to help you with your headaches. If you don't believe me, you can see the packaging for yourself."

The man seems to have forgotten. "S-see...?"

"Kid? If you need to spew, do it to your right."

"I...I uh... can't really see, sir. Well, I can, but when I do... things go wrong."

"I had a feelin' you were a Mutant. Didn't wanna' say anythin', though, in case it was a run-in with a violent one that got your eyes all banged up. No use bringin' up shit from the past. And for God's sake, kid, call me Logan."

"Y-... You can call me Scott, too, you know."

"Alright then, Scott. So tell me 'bout your hocus pocus eyes," the man says, picking him up and swinging him over his shoulder before walking back toward the house. Scott realizes he's really too old to be carried around anymore, but he's sick and he wouldn't be able to find his way back to the cabin by himself, anyway.

"I blast things when I open my eyes."

This seems to capture Logan's attention and the man harrumphs as he opens the door to the cabin and asks, "What kinda' things?"

"Anything, really. That's why they put the bandages 'round my head. My eyes are taped shut, but they wrapped bandages around them to make sure they stayed that way."

"So as long as you keep your eyes closed, nothing's gonna' happen, right?" Logan asks, shutting the door to the cabin behind himself before putting him down.

"Yeah."

All of a sudden, he feels his bandages being undone and he grasps a hold of them, protesting, "No, you shouldn't!"

"I trust ya not to look at me."

"I don't."

"Have more faith in yerself, kid."

"Easier said than done," Scott mutters as Logan unwraps the last bit and pulls back a little. He can feel the man scanning him, and he feels especially naked now that he doesn't have anything covering his eyes.

"Please Logan, don't," he begs when the man gingerly pries off the tape stuck to his eyelids, careful not to open his eyes.

"Sshh, pup."

"I don't want to break anything."

"You won't. Relax. It's not like you're not used to not seeing, anyhow."

He chews his bottom lip to shreds, anyway. "This is a bad idea."

"There. Done. Ya look a little more human, now."

"Great," he sighs despondently. Still, he finds himself pressing his fingertips to his eyelids, marveling at how the thin layer of skin can resist his optic blast when a wall of granite can't. "S- Logan, I think my eyes should be taped shut when I sleep. Just in case."

"Whatever you want, kid. Now plant yer ass on the sofa and take yer damn medicine."

* * *

Alex is chilling in his room and minding his own business when all of a sudden Abigail walks in and sits down in the middle of the room, on the floor, pulling out a crayon and a sheet of paper and going about her scribbles in an ordinary fashion. Like nothing's going on at all.

_What the heck?_

"Uh, Abby, this isn't your room," Alex points out, because apparently he needs to.

"I know," the girl replies calmly.

"So uh... Why are you in here?"

"Because I felt like it. Besides, I don't feel like being in my room right now."

"Okay. Whatever floats your boat."

"I promise I won't bother you."

"Yeah, alright." And so Alex plugs his earphones in and returns to the comic book he was flipping through.

"Hey, Alex?" Abby asks after a mere two minutes of silence.

"What happened to not bothering me?" the teen asks.

"I wanna' ask a question."

A sigh and then, "Yeah, alright, shoot."

"Are your parents happy that you live here?"

"I uh... actually don't have parents."

The girl looks up. "I'm sorry."

"S'all good. Don't worry 'bout it." He gets up and stretches before walking over to the window. "I do kinda' miss 'em, though. But I think they'd be okay with me living here. Probably tell me I scored big time. I do miss Scotty, though. Little pain in the ass." He chuckles, but even he knows that it doesn't sound very convincing.

Abigail comes up beside him and leans her head against his arm. "It's nice having you here. You're like another Noah."

"Only better looking."

She frowns at him, but bursts into giggles when he picks her up and flies her around the room. After about five minutes of high-pitched squealing and shrieking, he flips her onto his bed and lays himself down beside her.

"How 'bout you, then? Do you like it here?" he asks.

"Mm-hm, it's much better than the nunnery. But still…"

"It's not the same as home, is it?"

She shakes her head sadly and he slings an arm around her shoulders and pulls her against his side.

"You're not alone, kiddo'."

Abigail nods and wraps her arms around him, exhaling softly. "You neither."

* * *

**A/N**: So I was thinking of making Hank a stable character in Noah's life. Also, is it too early to add another character? I think the team could use some bonding time before I throw another person into the mix, but that's just me. Seriously guys, if there are any of you with suggestions for the direction this story should go in, shoot. If you want more people to fuck up or something, just tell me. I'm good at fucking things up and am fairly certain I could write about it, too.

Lots of love,  
Hazy


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

* * *

Days rolled into weeks and weeks rolled into months until the sun burned hotly onto gravel and the butterflies returned to the surface. The pup had been pestering him about going to the beach for weeks now, claiming that he hadn't felt sand since he was five years old and they really needed to cool down one way or another. Logan didn't see what the problem was with the pond not too far away from his cabin, but he realized that the novelty of it had worn off when Scott had felt every nook and cranny of its algae-rich depths.

And so now here he stood, holding the kid by the back of his T-shirt lest he jump straight into the ocean. The last thing he needs is for the kid to drown the moment he turns around.

"Sit down, Scooter."

The boy heaves a sigh but sits down obediently and cocks his head up at Logan, acting as though he could really see him through his dark black shades.

"Tell me the rules."

"Aw, Logan."

"Scott. Rules. Now."

"Always keep my eyes closed, when speaking to strangers keep my mouth shut, and call you when I think I'm in danger."

"Right," Logan grunts, before crouching down in front of him and stating, "If I find you so far out in the water that yer head is any smaller than my pinky I'll tan yer hide into puberty. Understood?"

In the past year, Scott has been on the receiving end of only one of Logan's brand of punishments, and he already knows he doesn't want to be on it again. "Yessir."

"Good." He claps the boy on the shoulder and suddenly remembers something. He reaches into the plastic bag he'd brought with him and tosses Scott the lotion with a "heads-up" so it doesn't hit him in the face. The boy sniffs the contents of the bottle before cringing and whining, "Do I have to?"

"It's your choice, kid. Feel the pain tomorrow, or live with the ick today. Kind of a life lesson, ain't it?" Logan asks, spreading out a towel and opening up a parasol before making himself comfortable.

Instead of responding, Scott sighs and squirts some of the cream onto his palm before spreading it in even layers over his body. After watching the kid struggle for like five minutes with his back and shoulders, Logan huffs and pulls the boy over to sit in front of him.

"I've told ye millions o' times before to ask fer help when ya need it."

"Sorry, Logan."

"Yeah yeah. Just sit still, would ya'?"

The boy sits still for a total of two minutes so Logan can finish up, but once he's allowed to get up and roll around, he appears to be stuck.

"Kid?" Logan asks, peering over the kid's shoulder to see the small, pinched face. "What's up, pup?"

The corners of Scott's mouth lift up slightly at the rhyme, but when he replies it's in a hushed tone. "Logan… how many people are around?"

"Uh… Lots."

"Are there a lot of children?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Do they look… nice?"

"Define 'nice'. And think before you speak, kid, 'cause they're doin' lots of tests on racism nowadays and lemme' tell you, you'd be surprised by what kids say these days." It's not like Logan to babble, but he can tell by the clamped jaw and clenched fists that the boy is too tense for a kid who finally got his wish granted and got to go to the beach after a month of begging.

"Scott. Hey, listen to me. You ain't supposed to worry 'bout what other people think about you. People are assholes. Don't try to please them."

"Even you?"

"No, stupid. I'm not just a person."

"Oh, right." Scott smirks, then whispers conspiratorially, "You're the Wolverine." Because yes, they had had that talk when the boy had rashly decided waking Logan in the throes of a nightmare would be a good idea and had nearly lost an ear for his efforts.

Logan flicks his forehead with a grunt before nudging the boy with his knee. "Exactly. Now go play. Let the Wolverine rest a bit."

"Alright old man."

Said 'old man' can't be bothered to find a witty comeback and instead stretches out with a happy sigh. Life with a whelp by his side has turned out to be more tiring than he'd initially expected.

* * *

Jill is busy building sandcastles with Sean and Raven as Hank, Noah, Alex and Abby play in the water. Erik and Charles are playing chess (the travel kind) and sipping cocktails. Every so often they glance up to make sure the children are okay before returning to their game.

And indeed, the children are. It's the young adults whose lives are in peril. Raven is being fed ice cream non-stop and on the house by the young men coming by with cold treats and Hank is being tackled non-stop by a rambunctious Noah. Alex is being similarly attacked by Abigail, but what with the girl's sleight stature she doesn't manage to bowl him over the way Noah does Hank.

"I'm gonna' go in the water for a bit," Raven announces as she stands up, and Erik is grateful for that since he doesn't think he would succeed in stopping Charles again from frying some poor overly zealous kid's brain. It's not like the hormone-driven guys stand a chance; the blonde version of Raven is something anyone would lust after.

He also doesn't miss the way Sean gazes longingly at the lively waves rushing up the shore. Charles eyes seem to have caught on as well and he sighs as he states, "Check mate again? You've gotten better at this game, my friend," even though Erik's only just made his second move. Well, he might as well rub it in. Now's as good a time as any.

"Don't worry about it, Charles. I'm sure you'll catch up to my level of genius soon enough."

Charles sends him a look which translates into "Yah, er, right." before the man looks over at Jill and he asks, "Sweetheart, would you come entertain Erik and I for a bit? I'm afraid I'm losing from a bad winner and I've just about lost my patience with him."

Jill looks like the world has come to an end. She quickly hops to her feet and runs over, plopping herself down in front of Charles and offering him a small seashell which lay next to his foot.

"Thank you, Jill."

"Hey, Charles, if you're watching shortie, can I go hit the ocean?"

"Yes, of course you may. You're alright here with us, aren't you, sweetheart?"

The girl nods rapidly, fire-coloured tresses flying, before pouring handfuls of sand onto Erik's leg repeatedly, obviously intent on burying it in the sand.

"She's a fast worker, that one," the Polish man comments, noting the speed at which his leg is disappearing beneath sable grain.

"We may just leave you here," Charles threatens with a tiny smirk.

* * *

Scott can hear a gaggle of kids playing not too far away from him and risks venturing in a little deeper, breaking waves with his arms as he goes.

"Not fair, Alex! You're too big!"

_Alex_.

He stands still, frozen. Suddenly the water feels ice cold and he considers back-tracking and running back up the beach to soak up the sun next to Logan, but then he realizes his body is immobile and all of a sudden he can't breathe, he can't see and he's tumbling through a heavy body of water and he wishes he could just open his eyes, but then what if he hurts –or worse, kills– somebody and if he could just reach his hands up and out and maybe touch sand but no there is no surface and no ground, there's only a cold blanket of water wrapped around his bones and he wishes he were worth it to peel open his eyelids for just a millisecond to see if someone had come for him before his demise.

And then suddenly a pair of arms surround him and no less than two seconds later they break the surface of the water and he's breathing in gulp after gulp of precious air and simultaneously hacking up the salty water that had infiltrated his lungs.

"You gotta' watch out, kid." And that voice most certainly isn't Logan's.

He doesn't know what to say to that except sorry so he chokes out, "Sorry, thanks" and hopes that will suffice for now since he's still struggling with the concept of breathing.

"Who've you got there, Alex?" another voice asks and he can feel his body moving as Alex turns around.

"Dunno'. It's weird, though, he really reminds me of someone."

"You guys are stupid," a young female voice chirrups, "you've gotta' _ask_ people their names. Hey, you, what's your name? And why can't you open your eyes? Did you get water in them?"

"I-I uh, yeah, water. And m'name's Scott."

"Scott?!" Alex asks, probably turning toward him now.

"Yeah. Scott Summers."

"… Wh-what?"

"My name. It's Scott Summers."

"… Scottie?"

And then it hits him like a ton of bricks that this isn't just some guy who coincidentally has the same name as his lost brother. "Alex?"

"What the fuck! Scott?! Is that you?! Open your eyes, man, lookatme!"

The excitement which was rushing through his veins turns cold and curdles before dying a miserable death.

"I…uh… can't."

"What do you mean 'you _can't_'?!"

"Is there a problem here?" a gruff voice asks, and Scott instantly recognizes it as Logan's.

"No sir."

"In that case, I'll take him off yer hands now. Thanks fer yer help."

"Uh—what?! Excuse me, sir, but you will do no such thing."

"Alex, it's fine, this is Logan."

"You know this guy?"

"Yeah, he's been, well, kind of, taking care of me for a year now."

"Oh he has, huh?" Alex sounds suspicious now and he wonders why. "How about we head over to the professor and he can sort this out with us, alright?"

"The professor?" Scott queries.

"I don't think that's a good idea, bub."

"Sir, if I may," another voice cuts in, "I think it would be in Scott's best interest to have a chat with professor Xavier."

Something must have passed between the two men because Logan actually agrees (though not without insisting that Alex let him go for now) and together they head back up the beach as Alex rattles off question after question, asking after his health and where he's been staying all this time and if he's happy.

The younger Summers doesn't really know how to give an adequate answer to each of his questions, but Alex doesn't ask anything twice and moves straight on to the next topic with such eagerness he supposes he must be doing something right.

And then (far too soon) they're standing in front of someone whom he supposes must be the professor, who responds positively to the strangers interrupting his peaceful downtime and asks politely whether there is something he could do to help them. Scott has never met anyone who speaks like this person (nor with that accent) and he feels instantly drawn to the man even though he's certain the feeling isn't mutual.

After a whole explanation from Alex about how he is 'THE Scott' as in 'the same kid brother I lost in a plane crash years ago and whom I thought I would never see again' they take a moment to rejoice before moving straight on to the next topic – his blindness.

Because somehow the professor knows he's not blind.

* * *

"Now hold on a sec there, bub," Logan cuts in when the Xavier dude starts talking about an institute for gifted children or whatever, "I ain't goin' nowhere."

"We understand if you don't think it's in your best interests to come to the institute, though you would be sorely missed, of course."

And of course that tall kid with the glasses told the professor about _his _mutation, too. How did that punk find out, anyway?

"I don't do the domestic stuff," he offers as an excuse. Not that he needs one.

"Understandable." The Xavier kid nods with a small smile before continuing with a serious expression, "But it has also come to our notice that Scott is not your legal ward. You just managed to happen upon him, correct?"

"Yeah. So?"

"We believe it would do him good to be with his brother."

And that's the crux of the problem, isn't it? 'Cause though he may not like to admit it, he has to face the fact that he's grown quite attached to the pup. But who is he kidding? He was meant to live by himself in the wild. This is the perfect opportunity to going back to the way things were. Scott can get help with is mutation and be reunited with his brother and he can go back to living by himself in his cabin.

"Well, if that's what the kid wants," Logan states, and he feels something sting hotly in his chest when the kid's head turns so fast he wouldn't be surprised he got whiplash from it.

"What?" Scott utters, surely far too excited to say any more.

"If ye wanna' go with them, I ain't gonna' stop ya, kid. It's your brother."

"B-but I don't wanna' go without you…"

Really? Has the boy truly grown as attached to him as he has grown to Scott? Does he really want to stay with him?

"Of course you would be well accommodated and given the same opportunities as- "

"That's fine, bub, save the chit-chat. I don't need the sales talk. You just tell me how much this is gonna' cost and I'll see about it."

"Why, nothing of course. Though it's not completely free of charge."

The other man, whose face this whole time seemed chiseled of stone, shoots the professor a look. Xavier ignores it and proceeds, "If you and Scott come to live with us in the institute, we would very much appreciate another instructor."

"Instructor? I don't know anything 'bout teachin'."

"That's alright. I'm sure we could find a solution for that. So, have we got an agreement?"

He looks at the kid's face and realizes the decision has already been made for him. And yet it seems so rushed, so hasty, so unplanned. But then again, when has anything in his life gone as planned?

"Alright."

* * *

**A/N**: Who else is really not in the mood for school tomorrow?  
Oh and please let me know what you think of the story! Personally, I find this chapter a bit rushed, but I really just wanted to get them all under the same roof already xD


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